


Tail Over Heels

by almaasi



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bickering, Cardassian flirting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domesticity, Eavesdropping, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Garak has a tail, Holding Hands, Illustrated, M/M, Mistaken For A Couple, Moving In Together, Romance, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, or an alternate post-canon where nobody leaves, set mid season 7, slightly alternate canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: Despite every attempt to deter her, Julian’s mother is coming to DS9. Here’s the problem: Julian told her he was married, and he’s not. Here’s the solution: Garak stands in as Julian’s husband. She’s meant to hate him. But Garak is just too damn likable – and a liiiittle too convincing in the role of Julian’s lover. Not only does his mother believe the lie, but so does everyone else on the station. Even Julian himself is starting to wonder...
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 73
Kudos: 355





	1. Sisko's Best Ever Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> This was was beta’d over the course of two entire months by [sweetdreamspootypie](https://sweetdreamspootypie.tumblr.com/), [sippingteabythesea](https://sippingteabythesea.tumblr.com), [fineillgettheapp](https://fineillgettheapp.tumblr.com/), and [starryoak](https://starryoak.tumblr.com/), with writerly musing assistance provided by [anupalya](https://anupalya.tumblr.com/). What a lovely crowd of good-quality humans. c:
> 
> Thank you to everyone in the DS9 fandom who keeps drawing [Garak with a tail](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/tagged/garak-with-a-tail) and making me crave more of that kind of _spectacular_ top tier content.

  


Julian burst into Ops, ran straight to Miles, and clutched his arm, stricken. “Tell me it’s not true,” he begged.

“What’s not true?” Miles asked as Julian fled past him and staggered down to the centre of Ops, eyes wild with emotional agony. “Julian, what’s wrong?”

Kira and Garak looked up from the same console, turning to peer at Julian as he approached.

“My _mother_ ,” Julian said, venom on his tongue. “I just got a message saying she’s on a ship about to dock.”

Kira smiled a little. “Funny, Garak just came up here to ask about that.”

Julian spared Garak the briefest glance, not caring to question why his spy friend kept tabs on Julian’s incoming messages. “And?” Julian demanded.

“And, yeah.” Kira nodded, eyes up on the oval viewscreen. “There it is now. Transport ship from Earth, docking in about three minutes.”

“Oh, no-no-no noooo,” Julian wailed. He paced back and forth, clawing at his hairline. “I did everything in my power to keep her _away_ from here, why is she visiting even after I _said_ — My _God_ , what am I supposed to do _now_?”

“Doctor,” Garak said, taking Julian by the shoulder and halting him. “Perhaps, if you’re going to have a breakdown, you would be more comfortable having it in private.”

Julian grasped at his friend’s thick tunic, shaking him. “You don’t understand! My mother can’t be here! She didn’t even tell me she was coming!”

“And that must be devastating,” Garak said calmly, turning Julian by his shoulders and steering him away from all the staring Bajoran officers and Julian’s worried-looking friends. “Let’s talk about this somewhere quieter, shall we? Up the stairs, there’s a good man.”

Julian went where he was pushed, stumbling up the steps to Sisko’s office. The doors opened, and Garak took Julian inside.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Sisko asked, leaning back at his desk, holding his baseball.

The doors closed, and Garak swept his tail out of the way just in time. “Small personal emergency, Captain,” Garak said, still holding Julian’s shoulders while he hyperventilated. “We were merely in need of a smaller audience.”

Julian turned and removed himself from Garak’s touch. He paced manically, storming up and down the captain’s office, hands locked behind his neck. “This is a nightmare. I know my relationship with my mother is lightyears better than with my dad, but _still_ —! To dock without a word of warning!”

Sisko tossed his baseball. “I take it that transport from Earth arrived.” He raised his eyebrows and spun the ball on a fingertip. “Hmm! Kasidy’s ship shouldn’t be too far behind. Take a deep breath, doctor; I’m sure you’ll get through this just fine.”

“Doctor, please,” Garak said, holding out an arm to catch Julian before he swept past again. “I don’t mean to pry, but what is so terrible about an unexpected visit from your mother?”

“I haven’t had a moment to prepare! For months, she’s been getting all insistent on visiting, and ‘ _I’m busy_ ’ just wasn’t cutting it anymore. So,” Julian folded his arms, uttering, “as a final resort, I said I was going on holiday and wouldn’t be here, and _she_ said she wanted to join me on that holiday – and that wouldn’t do, obviously... so,” he hugged himself tighter, tense and embarrassed, “in order to deter her, I said it was my honeymoon trip.”

“ _Honey_ -moon,” Garak repeated. “As in...”

“As in, I told her I got married!” Julian exploded, arms out. “And I’m not married!”

Sisko seemed to cough a laugh at the back of his throat.

“Obviously, it was catastrophic, awful, idiotic mistake,” Julian explained, palms out to Garak. “I should’ve known that telling her I’d met someone would’ve been like offering a battle to a Klingon. If I could unsay it, of course I would, but I can’t, and now she’s here, and I’m— Oh, God, what do I do?” He slumped into the couch on the far side of Sisko’s room, neck on the backrest, eyes staring at the grates on the ceiling.

“Seems to me, doctor,” Sisko said, amused, “from the perspective of a parent, I suspect your mother would rather hear the truth.”

“You’re saying I should come clean?” Julian sat up, examining Sisko from across the room. “Tell her I lied?” He glanced at Garak, who merely stared back. Julian gave a mighty sigh, chin sunk deeply into his hands. He stared at a carpet. “But she was so _happy_... Over the moon, really, that not only had I found someone special, but loved them enough to marry them. As a father, you can understand that, can’t you, Captain? It would destroy her to find out – well – not only did I lie about that, but that I’ve basically been avoiding her all this time.”

Sisko judgmentally tossed his ball from one hand to the other.

“My dear doctor,” Garak said, eyeridges high, gaze set on a tunic cuff, fiddling with it carelessly, “this is quite the puzzle you’ve constructed for yourself. But I fail to see any solution besides the captain’s suggestion: as difficult as it might be, and as damaging as it could be to your, I must say, _tentative_ relationship with your mother, perhaps revealing the truth is in order, here.”

Julian looked at him, confused. “This, coming from a class-A liar. You don’t mean that, do you?” Pause. “No, of course you don’t.”

Garak gave his slyest smile: chin down, eyes on Julian, mouth curving a little too high up his face.

Sisko scowled and put down his baseball. “Alternately, doctor, you could always find a willing partner to play the role of your spouse. Keep the lie going. What harm could it do to lie to your mother, after all?”

Julian looked at Sisko with as much bafflement as he’d looked at Garak. “With all due respect, Captain, that’s an _awful_ idea.”

Sisko hmm-hmmed in agreement. “Maybe _that_ will convince you to be honest.” He shot Garak a particularly stern look.

Julian looked between them, locked in a moral quandary. Lie, or tell the truth? Whichever option he picked, it did seem like the result would be an unhappy Amsha Bashir, as Julian knew better than anyone that the truth would come out eventually. He rubbed his mouth, agonising over his thoughts.

“If I might be of some assistance,” Garak said, “I _would_ be willing to perform the part for the duration of your mother’s visit.”

Julian and Sisko both stared at him.

“You...” Julian blinked. “What?”

“An attempt at humour it may well have been, but Captain Sisko did make a perfectly valid suggestion. We could play-act as partners.”

Julian gawped. “Wait, I’m sorry. Garak, are you saying you’d... pretend to be my... husband?”

“Oh, yes.” Garak bounced on his heels with a cheerful smile. “Surely it would be a task a hundredfold more invigorating than the endless hemming of dresses.”

“You’re... joking, surely,” Julian tried.

“Not at all, doctor,” Garak said.

Sisko groaned to himself and rested his forehead in both hands. “Mr. Garak, in all my life, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a more ill-advised idea.”

“It _was_ your idea, sir,” Julian mused as he got to his feet.

Sisko’s voice squeaked as he exclaimed, “It was a purposefully misguided suggestion imparted with the _sole_ intention of guiding you towards a better—” He sat up straighter as he saw Julian’s growing smile. “Dr. Ba- _shir_! You cannot seriously be considering this!”

Julian was looking at Garak ponderously, a step away. “It wouldn’t be too hard, would it?” he wondered. “We do _know_ each other very well.”

“Immensely well, indeed,” Garak agreed, reaching to touch Julian’s elbow.

Julian fretted and eased back. “Oh, I’m not sure... This really isn’t—”

The computer bleeped. Kira’s voice came through, “ _Captain, the Earth transport has docked. Kasidy’s freighter is only a few minutes away._ ”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Sisko said. He stood up and placed his baseball back on its stand. “And, Colonel—?”

“ _Yes?_ ”

“Is there a Mrs. Bashir among the passengers boarding now?”

“ _Oh... Yes – and she just messaged Ops, Captain. Amsha Bashir is requesting to – meet Julian’s... wife?_ What _wife?_ ”

Julian buried his face in his hands and moaned aloud. He peeked out between his fingers. Sisko was shaking his head at him. Garak looked expectant.

Steeling himself, Julian tried to fight down panic and locate a rational thought. He shook his head and let his hands fall. “Garak, as great, and as generous as your offer is—”

“She’s expecting a woman,” Garak finished.

“Yes.”

“She’ll hate me,” Garak added.

“Undoubtedly,” Julian admitted bitterly. He tipped his head to one side, eyes wandering. He scrunched up his face, droning an unhappy note. Then his eyes opened wide and locked on Garak’s. “She’ll _hate_ you,” he repeated, excited now. He started to grin.

Garak caught on and started to smile. “Perhaps so much that she’ll leave?”

“Oh, God, I hope so.” Julian turned his grin to Sisko. “Captain,” he said firmly, as Sisko stepped out from behind his desk. “I think Garak and I will be faking a marriage after all. Thank you for the excellent suggestion.”

“Neither of you are the _least_ bit welcome,” Sisko grumbled.

Julian carried on smiling anyway. He sidled up to Garak and snuck a hand behind his lower back. Garak seemed stung with surprise, glancing at Julian at the touch, but shared a playful smirk with him a moment later.

With a deep, invigorated breath, Garak turned to Sisko and announced, “Captain, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to request a temporary change of living arrangements. If we could have our belongings beamed to new quarters at the earliest convenience—”

“Permission not granted!” Sisko cried out, halfway between amused and irked. “You’ll stay where you are!”

“In that case,” Garak turned to Julian, “perhaps I’ll just carry my things to _your_ quarters, my dear.”

Julian beamed. “That would be wonderful... ssssweet...heart?”

Garak looked like he’d swallowed his tongue. “Doctor,” he said wearily, relaxing into a distasteful glare, “newly married we may be, but there’s really no need to change anything about our interactions. Especially not with such frippery. Although you may, on occasion, venture to call me by my first name.”

“Alright,” Julian agreed with some relief. “Elim.”

“Much better.”

Sisko, clearly done with this entire conversation, waited for Julian and Garak to clear his path to the door. “If you gentlemen would excuse me...”

“Captain—” Julian reached for him but didn’t touch him. The doors opened and Sisko stepped out. “If my mother asks, may I tell her you performed the marriage ceremony?”

A muscle in Sisko’s jaw jumped. There was a twinkle in his eye – irritated he may have been, but he was holding back a chuckle nonetheless. “Tell her all the lies you want, doctor,” he said, trotting down the stairs. “It’s your funeral.”

Julian smiled after him. “Did that sound like a yes?” he muttered to Garak. “Sounded like a yes to me.”

Garak’s expression had breezed past satisfaction, and he now had the determined set to his eyes that showed he was deep into concocting a plan. “Walk with me, doctor,” he said, taking Julian’s arm and accompanying him across Ops.

“Wait a minute – Julian!” Kira called as she saw them pass. “Since when were you married? What _wife_ was your mother talking about?”

“None of your business, Colonel,” Julian replied. 

Miles spluttered at his station. “Why’d you never tell me?!” he shouted. “Julian! We’re best friends, how could you never tell me you’re married?!”

“Sorry, Miles,” Julian said lightly. He and Garak stepped into the turbolift, and turned to face Ops. “Maybe it just never came up. Docking Ring.”

The lift descended, and Julian thrilled a little, seeing Miles look so perplexed and Kira look so offended.

As the lift whirred along past dark walls, Julian and Garak stood shoulder-to-shoulder, taking measured breaths, heads full of hyperactive buzzing. Julian’s head was, in any case.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” Garak said, “that a lie maintained by two people is infinitely more complex than a lie maintained by one. I’d highly suggest the two of us decide a few intimate details so we’re not caught out when questioned.”

“Of course.”

“As I said, there’s no reason to change anything fundamental about our relationship; we simply need to add references to certain romantic facts that are absent from our current friendship. For example,” Garak drew himself up tall, “when did you first have feelings for me?”

“What?” Julian looked at his friend sharply. “What sort of feelings?”

“Any.”

“Oh. Um.” Julian glanced around. “The day before we met. I heard you were a spy and I thought that was... exciting.”

“Did you!”

“Yes. What about you?”

Garak smiled slowly. “I saw you the day you boarded the station and I thought you were... hm, beautiful, naive; just sure enough about your tastes to be interesting, but just uncertain enough that you might be curious to try out something new.”

“Something n—”

“Me, doctor. Surely you won’t force me to spell it out.”

Julian stared. “You – wanted to _sleep_ with me?”

Garak stared back. “Have you forgotten we’re inventing stories?”

“Oh!” Julian looked forward hastily. “Obviously. Right. Yes. Silly me. Um.” He gulped. His hot-flushed skin cooled down in waves. “In that case, um. I had a crush on you. Almost immediately.”

“And you fell in love...?”

Julian glanced over.

“An approximate time will do, doctor, not an exact date.”

Julian stumbled over his tongue but forced out, “Sometime during our lunch meetings. Probably in the second or third year. Only got stronger after that, I suppose.”

“Let’s call them dates, doctor.”

“Oh.” Julian smiled, chin down. “Okay. Dates. Mm. S-So, um. What about you, when did you fall in love with me?”

“The year after we met, during the ten days you spent with me after disabling my cranial implant. More so every day since. And my affections all but doubled when you shot me in the holosuite.”

Julian watched Garak. Garak didn’t look back.

“When and where did we share our first kiss?” Garak asked. “Answer quickly; there’s not much time.”

“Oh – oh – oh – um—”

“Quickly, doctor!”

“I can’t think!”

“When did we move in together?”

“I-I-I – I don’t—”

“First sleep together?”

Julian reeled, his skin flashed hot and cold, breath uneven across his tongue. “M-My brain’s completely blank! We haven’t done any of that stuff, I can’t just make up memories on the spot! This isn’t a holosuite game, or an enemy interrogation, it’s real life.”

Garak sighed. The lift had begun to slow. “Tell me one true thing about yourself, then: what manner of romantic affection do you like best?”

Julian squinted at Garak. “My mother doesn’t need to know that.”

“But I do,” Garak said.

Julian’s heart was in his throat. He had only just taken a breath to answer when the turbolift halted and opened out to the Docking Ring.

A short, smiling brown woman stood not too far away, a suitcase at her feet, tucking her hair behind one ear. She turned, as if knowing where Julian had placed his feet. Their eyes locked.

“Jules!” she called, her cheeks crinkling in delight.

Julian’s shoulders sank, and he started to smile. “Hello again, Mother.”

  


★

  



	2. A Temporary Marriage

“Awww,” Amsha crooned, swaying as she held Julian’s shoulders, cheek on his temple. “You’re so much taller than I remember.” She pulled back and cradled his cheeks in her warm hands. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Mother,” Julian admitted, finding it a surprise. “You look spectacular. Haircut?”

“Oh, twenty of them,” Amsha smiled, before pulling Julian in for another hug.

When she spoke, Amsha Bashir spoke in tiptoes: her voice was quiet and soft, with all her sounds turned over behind her front teeth; her Arabian accent lingered in every word of Federation Standard. Her voice, not to mention her clean Dubai-spice perfume, reminded Julian of a home that wasn’t really home anymore. Yet with his mother now on board, DS9 felt more like home than ever.

Julian wondered, just for a split-second, why he’d ever wanted to avoid her. He was almost sure he loved her, despite everything that muddied their history. Did he really want to lie to her?

Garak cleared his throat. He stood nearby, smiling gently, hands clasped behind his back. He filled his purple tunic with a thrust-out chest, looking proud as Julian said, “Um, Mother... I’d— I’d like you to meet Garak. Elim Garak.” Julian held out a hand, guiding her towards his Cardassian companion. “A very... good _friend_ of mine.”

“Oh,” Amsha offered her hand. “How do you do?”

Garak took her hand and bowed. “Most delighted to meet you, madam.”

“Ah. You too.” Amsha let Garak go and looked around. “Where is your wife, Jules? Do I get to meet her as well?”

Julian shot Garak a panicked look, on the fence about their plan. Garak gave him an understanding blink, then he turned to his mother and said, “I think you’ll find you already have met his companion, Mrs. Bashir.” He offered his hand again. “Apologies for any confusion.”

“I’m sorry?” Amsha took his hand but didn’t shake it. “What do you mean?”

Julian decided to throw himself into the lie, since the last thing he wanted now was to disrupt this easy warmth between himself and his mother with an unpleasant truth. Garak had given him an opening. He might as well commit.

“Elim... was a Cardassian spy,” Julian said. “And now he’s an accomplished tailor. Spent six months in prison for attempted genocide, but—” Julian sighed, rolling his eyes in an affectionate way, “he’s also my husband.”

Amsha went stock-still, frozen before the looming grey beast who peered down at her. His reptilian tail swished behind him in intrigue.

“Husband?” Amsha glanced at Julian for reassurance.

Julian nodded a few times, cheerfully.

Garak bowed his head respectfully to Amsha. “It’s truly an honour to meet you, Mrs. Bashir.” He lifted her hand and put a kiss on the back of it. “Julian’s told me a hundred most flattering things about you over the years, but he never quite captured the magnitude of your presence.”

“Oh,” Amsha said, taken aback, either by the smoothness of Garak’s speech or by his tender manner, which surprised even Julian.

“Come now,” Garak drew an arm around Amsha’s low shoulders, “you must be tired from your journey. All the way from Earth! I must say, if I hadn’t been permanently exiled from Cardassia and confined to this station, I’d have liked to spend a summer on Earth. I hear you have the most spectacular sandy deserts.”

“Um...? Yes...” Amsha paced alongside Garak as Julian carried her suitcase behind. Garak offered a crooked arm, and she took it. “You must prefer the heat.”

“Aha! How did you know?!” Garak’s eyes lit up. “Do you meet a lot of Cardassians on Earth?”

“You’re the first I’ve met,” Amsha said with a tiny smile. “Your hands feel very warm, but you’re dressed so thickly. I thought you’re... ah, cold-blooded? You need the heat to maintain your temperature.”

“I have _heat lamps_ wherever I sleep to keep me warm,” Garak said, somewhat pointedly, as they paced slowly down the hallways. They were passed by Kasidy, who flung herself into Sisko’s arms, and they spun on the spot, laughing. Julian offered a flat smile, edging past, following Garak and his mother.

“Was it true,” Amsha asked, “what Julian said, about you going to prison?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But! I’ve rather learned my lesson. Even if it would save the entire Quadrant from the Dominion, wiping out a whole species is... not quite worth it. Since then I’ve kept my targets more limited.”

“My husband’s in prison,” Amsha said. “He’ll be out soon. Did they treat you well?”

“The _guards_ were never cruel to me. But incarceration was far from a pleasant experience, which, I imagine, is the point.”

Behind them, Julian bristled, privately considering stomping on Garak’s tail. He was just too damn polite. Julian had brought up the worst decision Garak had ever made in his life, and somehow these two were _bonding_ over it. How could Julian’s mother be so forgiving? Who could gloss over _genocide_ and _murder_ like that—

Julian’s ire extinguished with a puff of smoke as he realised he too had forgiven Garak, just as easily. Damn genetics. Now he knew who he got it from. ‘ _Hopelessly forgiving of murderous but likable lizards_ ’ must’ve been one of the genes the blasted doctors never messed with. There was a gene for everything, after all.

“So how did you and Jules meet?” Amsha asked, tugging on Garak’s arm eagerly. She glanced back, setting her hazel eyes on Julian and smiling at him. “It must’ve been many years ago. I remember he mentioned you a few times when he came back to Earth... five years ago? Yes, then.”

Garak smiled over his shoulder, then faced forward, and fell into a rambling, if accurate story about approaching Julian at the Replimat – with a short pause to explain what the Replimat was – and then how Julian had helped him stop a deadly crime before it happened.

“You’re a bit of a hero, then,” Amsha noted, which made Garak chuckle humbly.

But even Julian had to admit, “You know, he really is. He just comes with a few _massive_ flaws here and there.”

Garak stole a soft look back but turned away before his eyes could linger. “Dear Julian thinks so highly of me, but I assure you, I am every bit the monster you see before you.”

“Ohhh, no,” Amsha patted him. “My Jules wouldn’t have married you unless you were a kind man. And I think you are, Elim.” She leaned close to whisper, “And you are a little handsome, too.” She pulled back, a finger to her lips, swearing him to secrecy.

Behind them, Julian smiled, and hated himself for smiling.

  


★

  


After Garak left them, needing to run ‘errands’, Julian found Amsha some quarters so she could rest overnight – there was no jet-lag worse than space travel, truly – then he hurried off to his own quarters alone, seething to himself but trying not to attract anyone else’s attention.

He opened his doors to find Garak there, all his belongings collected in crates by the sofa and on the coffee table, with an open-sided wheely rack of clothes behind.

Garak looked up, greeting him, “Ah! Doctor.”

“Don’t you ‘ _ah, doctor_ ’ me,” Julian grumbled, stepping inside and finding the room to be warmer than usual. There were heat lamps glowing around the place, and the hot red lights in the ceiling were switched on. Julian had never used those any higher than the yellow setting before.

“Did I wrong you in some way?” Garak asked.

“Oh, as if you don’t know. My mother is supposed to hate you! But she said goodnight to me absolutely _singing_ your praises. She thinks you’re my perfect match! A _foil_ for all my hubris and social clumsiness and overexcitable energy!”

Garak smiled quietly, folding laundry over a hand. “Hardly my fault, doctor.”

“Yes it _is_.” Julian stormed up to him. “You didn’t have to be so nice to her, Garak. You charmed her into loving you.”

Garak’s eyes twinkled. “Perhaps it’s a gift of mine, yes. Or perhaps it’s a flaw in your own family line, dear doctor, that you and your mother both find me so charming.”

Julian hummed darkly. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Now she likes you, she wants to stay. She wants to see what this station is all about. She wants to ‘get to know you better’.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Garak seemed amused. “Really, doctor, what could she pry from me in a few days that you haven’t already gleaned in seven years?”

“You told her you like Klingon opera!”

“And?”

“And I never knew that!”

“Did it occur to you that I might have been lying?”

“Oh, please.” Julian flicked a box of makeup shut, which got Garak’s attention. “You didn’t lie to her, not even once.”

“Besides telling her we’re married.”

“No,” Julian said, calmly, coolly, and with a firm jaw. “You didn’t tell her that. _I_ told her that. You didn’t correct me, or her. Everything you actually said aloud was the absolute truth and now _I’m_ the liar.”

Garak turned away, sliding a tunic onto a hanger.

“Why, Garak?” Julian asked, staring at his friend’s back. “Why do you want her to like you?”

Garak peered back, vulnerability in his blue eyes; his eyeridges relaxed enough to show honesty. “Would it be such a terrible thing if your mother liked me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because then she’ll think I’m happy with you! And she’ll be all _proud_ of me and expect me to stay with you forever! I’ll have to lie to her for God _knows_ how long. At least if she hated you, I could give her the satisfaction of ‘convincing’ me to break up with you, and we get back to reality, where I’m happily single. That way she’d never find out our marriage was a lie; my mistake would be erased, and to top it all off, she’d feel like she was in cahoots with me. Or, alternatively, she’d just hate you, and hate me for loving you, and leave me alone forever. It was a perfect plan, Garak. It was.”

“Forgive me, then, for ruining it so completely,” Garak said flatly.

Julian gritted his teeth, and glared downwards. “It’s not all your fault,” he admitted. “The moment she got here... I don’t know. I realised I didn’t _want_ to lie to her.”

Garak peered at Julian, fascinated. “Then why did you?”

“Because I’d already lied, and it was too hard to admit it.”

“Why did you lie to her in the first place, doctor? Why didn’t you want her to visit?”

“Because—” Julian opened his hands, but grasped at nothing. “Because!”

Garak smiled. “If ‘because’ were the be-all, end-all by which you’d been winning all our debates over lunch for all these years, I don’t think I’d have fallen in love with you at all.”

“Oh, shut up,” Julian said haughtily, reaching to snatch open the makeup case again. “Is this yours?” he demanded.

“All of it is,” Garak said with too much patience. “I hope you don’t mind; I brought everything with me but the furniture. I so-happened to run into the lovely woman in charge of assigning living quarters, and she had everything sent over.”

Julian stared. “You live here officially?”

“For now,” Garak said, tucking folded trousers into Julian’s drawers, which had been rearranged since the morning. “This is a temporary marriage, after all.”

“Well, I should damn well hope so. Wouldn’t want to be married to you any longer than I have to be.” Julian looked around, frowning. “Where’s all this stuff going to go, then? I see you’ve taken over my dresser. And the sofa. And the walls! What’s next, the bathroom?”

“I did put my toothbrush and hair-care items in there, yes. Don’t mind the jar of scales, I’m collecting for one of young Molly’s science projects.”

Julian tutted. “And this?” He picked up a blue powder-shadow from the makeup case, then put it back. “Where are all these supposed to live?”

“Wherever you find a place for it,” Garak said, too busy to look back.

Julian clipped the box shut and picked it up. He examined its size, then looked around until he saw a spot.

He had to nudge Kukalaka along a bit, but then the case fit nicely atop the dresser. Julian stepped back, pondering the new look of the place.

Head stuffy with worries about this new arrangement, he first helped Garak put things wherever they fit, but then supposed that just because Garak’s books fit with the shoes it didn’t mean they should be there; they did have pretty covers, and it seemed a shame to hide them, so he put them on the display shelves instead. They argued about placement, rearranging items and finding them new homes, but by the end of half an hour, all the crates were empty, and the living room barely felt cluttered at all.

Garak didn’t have a lot of stuff, but what he did have was attractive, and most of it was useful. Now, even some of Julian’s old decor had been packed away, and, loath as he was to admit it, the place looked refreshed. It might even look barren without it all, should it be taken back.

Julian found he wasn’t anxious anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact: he felt comfortable, and comforted. But he pretended to be frustrated with all these changes, because he didn’t feel like submitting to Garak’s underhanded domination of his private life right now. Julian had _invited_ the other man in, yes, but he hadn’t considered how vulnerable it might make him, striking up a total intimacy without much warning.

For all intents and purposes, for the foreseeable future, Julian was married.

And so far... he was enjoying it.

Frankly, that scared him a little.

“Well!” Julian snapped, stomping into the living room in his pyjamas and angrily acquiring some herbal tea from the replicator. “Given the situation, _Garak_ , I suppose we’d better sort things out in the bedroom, too.”

Garak looked up from the book he was reading on the sofa. “And what do you mean by that, doctor?”

“I mean!” Julian flung an arm out towards the bedroom doorway. “Only one bed, isn’t there? What do you plan to do about _that_?”

Garak considered Julian’s annoyance, and asked, tentatively, “If you’d like me to put in a request to have my old bed sent over, I’m not opposed. I simply imagined that if we were to maintain the pretence of a marriage... I understand it’s the custom of Humans as well as Cardassians to share a bed with marital partners. And I suspect your mother would like to visit our quarters at least once.”

Julian toned the act down a little. “Well, yes. But.” He sipped at his tea, then shrugged, rumpling his striped pyjamas. “We need to pick a side each, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Garak looked pleasantly surprised. “Is that all? In that case, doctor, I prefer the left.”

“Left when facing the bed, or when lying in it?”

“Lying in it.”

“So you mean the right.”

“Just choose a side, doctor, and I will take the other,” Garak said, snapping his book closed and picking up a padd instead. He got up, and followed Julian to the bedroom, which was dimly lit in red from the heaters in the ceiling. Julian had thought it best to let them heat up before inviting Garak in.

Julian went to his usual side of the bed and put down his tea, but Garak bumped into him as he turned, and they gently manhandled each other, nudging, grunting, each refusing to yield to the other, until Garak was on his other side, prying back the covers. Julian threw one of those triangle pillows in his face. Garak eyed him, then plumped the pillow, and settled it neatly next to the other one.

With a huff, Julian crawled into bed, back shoved in Garak’s direction. Garak jostled about, and Julian half expected to be embraced...

But...?

Julian rolled over, curious, and found Garak reading his padd again, sitting up with his back to the headboard lights.

“How can you read? It’s so gloomy.”

“Cardassian eyes, doctor,” Garak said, making the padd bleep as he turned a page. “I prefer it dark.”

“Hm. Well,” Julian shut his eyes and snuggled up again, back turned, “I like it quiet.”

“I shall endeavour not to disturb you.”

“Good.”

A few minutes passed. Garak turned three pages.

Julian sat up with some force, thumping himself down at Garak’s side. “What are you reading?” he asked, picking up his tea again.

Garak offered him the padd. “ _The Rise and Fall of the Tribble Empire_. It’s quite a tale.”

“Fiction?”

“Fact.” Garak went back to reading, and Julian craned closer over his ridged shoulder, reading the whole page in a blink.

Then he waited. Drank his tea. Waited more.

“You read too slowly,” Julian complained.

“I think you’ll find you read too fast,” Garak retorted. “Genetically enhanced for speed, you say? Seems to me you’ve had all the joy sucked out of simple tasks. There is an art to savouring the pleasurable things, dear doctor. If you cannot slow down, just for a moment, to _enjoy_ your experience, then what is the point of it, in the end?”

“And you’re enjoying reading about Tribbles, are you?”

“As much as I enjoy anything else.”

Julian sucked more tea down, pursing his lips as he swallowed. Garak finally turned the page, and Julian ate up the next one in another blink. But he read it again, slowly, pretending to be Garak, imagining how he’d see all these simple, tiny words, understanding them one by one rather than all at once.

Okay. It did seem different, once savoured. The words were new and yet familiar at the same time.

Julian read the next page in pieces, making sure to look away often. Even reading slowly, he read faster than Garak. Yet in all this time, he stayed close, chin hovering by Garak’s shoulder, feeling the heat rising from Garak’s exposed shoulder ridges. He wore loose, soft pyjamas, and he smelled... nice. Not like something sensible, like soap or cologne, or even something feisty, like ozone or burnt electronics. He smelled... ugh, like a really clean sofa. Like the echo of dust on old velvet pillows. Like the embroidery on a frock found at the back of a cupboard. Like balled-up socks, or pillowcases at the bottom of a stack, that hadn’t been used in years. It wasn’t a dull smell, but a delicate one. Julian wanted to bury his nose in that ivory linen and inhale until he ran out of space in his lungs.

But he kept his breaths shallow, trying not to let his eyes roam to Garak’s face. But oh, that was where they wanted to go. Julian had never been so close to his face for so long. Garak had brushed his teeth with something that smelled like sweet wood. His lips had been touched by some sort of moisturising gel. His hair was loose past his ears, not pushed back behind his head.

“Garak?” Julian asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

Julian kept gazing at him. “Do you think this is what being married is like?”

Garak’s eyes swept to him. “Which part?”

“Bickering all evening. And then... just...” Julian’s breath caught, eyes lowering, lips still open. “Being together. Wiping the slate clean for the sake of... of sleep, of the bond between... us.” He gulped, searching Garak’s eyes for a response. “Talking, or not talking. But staying together anyway.”

Garak looked at him for a long time. Then, almost under his breath, he said, “If it is, perhaps I wouldn’t mind it.”

Julian gave a tiny smile. “I, um. I think I’ll try and get some rest, now. Goodnight, Elim.”

Garak tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Goodnight, dear Julian. Sleep well.”

Julian put aside his empty mug and lay down, rolling over and taking the blanket with him.

Twenty minutes and nineteen pages later, Garak lay down too. He tugged on the blanket hopefully, and Julian let him have most of it.

Blurrily, within the warm fuzz of almost-sleep, Julian supposed he could let go of his reservations about this fake marriage. Embrace the peculiarity of it all, and just see where all the theatrics would take them. So what if his mother liked his fake husband? That could work to their advantage, whether or not she ever found out the truth.

“HmmmGarak?”

“Mm?” Garak snuggled closer, no doubt drawn in by Julian’s body heat... and perhaps the sound of his voice might have sounded like an invitation.

“People won’t really believe us, would they?” Julian asked, turning his chin over his shoulder and finding Garak’s closed eyes an inch away. “Miles... Kira. Once they realise you’re the one standing in for my ‘wife’, they’ll realise it’s a joke, wouldn’t they? Sisko’s in on it, and he’s obviously not going to lie for us. So... it’ll be a sort of running gag on the station.”

“Mm-hm.”

Satisfied, Julian rolled back over and didn’t mind that Garak wriggled up to press against his spine. “Nobody’ll ever think it’s real,” Julian said. “Because it’s ridiculous. You and me. Lovers. It’s just – hmmhh... too unbelievable.”

“Quite,” Garak murmured. He exhaled as his arms slipped around Julian’s middle, and his thick, leathery, and surprisingly warm tail curled around Julian’s left knee.

Julian relaxed, a hand sliding to touch Garak’s. “I’m sure of it. The only person in the Quadrant who could believe we’re _really_ married is my mother.”

  


★

  



	3. Dialogues (On and Off the Promenade)

Garak strode into the Infirmary with plans to ask Julian to lunch, only to spot Amsha ahead, talking to Ezri near the entrance.

“Good morning, ladies,” Garak greeted them, but they greeted him in return and fell back to their conversation, so he stepped past, recognising that the discussion wasn’t for him to join.

“Salutations, doctor,” Garak said to Julian, who sat craning close to a console screen, chin in a hand, hips swaying in his wheely chair.

“Hm,” Julian said.

“Busy?” Garak asked.

“Mm.” Julian’s hands pounced onto the console, and he began stabbing dozens of buttons with his fingertips.

Garak urged, “I only wished to ask if you were available for lunch. But if you’re otherwise occupied...”

There was really no point talking to him. He wasn’t listening.

While Julian was unresponsive, Garak plodded about nearby, pretending to wait. He secretly let his attention wander to the women, while keeping his eyes away from them, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. His hearing wasn’t too good, but with some strain, and with his breath held, he could make out enough to comprehend...

“ _—just maybe a bit... upsetting,_ ” Amsha was saying, solemnly. “ _He didn’t tell me anything._ ”

Ezri asked, “ _About what?_ ”

“ _The wedding,_ ” Amsha clarified.

Openly intrigued, Ezri asked, “ _What_ is _all this about a wedding?_ ”

“ _He and Elim didn’t invite me. I know it must sound petty now it’s all said and done. I just wish I could undo all the ways I’ve hurt him in the past, so maybe he wouldn’t have hidden such a big thing from me now..._ ”

“ _Who’s— Elim?_ ” Ezri asked.

“ _Elim. Elim Garak. Julian’s husband._ ”

Ezri took several seconds to process her new knowledge of Garak’s first name, and of Julian’s marriage, then her eyes darted to meet Garak’s across the Infirmary. Garak gave her a smile, before he looked away innocently.

Ezri chuckled, and out of the corner of his eye, Garak saw her reach to touch Amsha’s arm. “ _You can’t blame yourself for this one. Really. It’s natural for people to keep certain things private, especially on a station like this. One person knows and then everyone knows._ ”

“ _Do other people hide their marriages?_ ”

“ _Um... Well... no?_ ”

“ _I should’ve visited him sooner,_ ” Amsha lamented. “ _All this distance between us, it’s kept us apart in so many ways._ ”

“ _But_ I’m _close to Julian and he didn’t tell me, either,_ ” Ezri said comfortingly. “ _His husband’s a very private man, Mrs. Bashir, and they’re both often in dangerous situations – I think they might’ve kept it a secret just to keep each other comfortable and safe._ ”

“ _Dangerous—_ ”

“ _Oh! No, not too dangerous. Well— Okay, a bit dangerous. Well, a lot. But—_ ”

Garak chuckled, amused by Ezri’s panicked rambling. The chuckle stirred Julian from his cerebral trance, and he looked around, fingers lifting from the console at last. He noticed the women in the entrance, then looked at Garak, who kept his ear cocked their way. Julian chided, “Garak, stop eavesdropping.”

“Only making up for your inadequacy in that department, doctor. For all your super-powered hearing, you seem not to put it to much good use.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Julian spun on his chair to face Garak.

“Only that I’ve said hello and asked you on a date and you’ve only just noticed I’m here.”

“A date?” Julian blinked. “When did you—”

Garak tilted his head and tried to zone Julian out for a moment, desperately listening to the conversation in the Infirmary’s doorway. Julian stood up and approached him, frowning.

“Talk about hypocrisy,” Julian said. “You’re not listening to me at all, are you? I _said_ I have another hour’s work to do, but then—”

He paused, apparently hearing something Garak hadn’t heard.

“What is it, doctor?” Garak asked, watching Julian start to blush.

“Oh— Oh, nothing,” Julian said and stepped away in haste, somewhat submissively. Then he flinched and drew himself up tall, chin rising, eyes stern on Garak’s. “I’m working for another hour, come back then.”

“Why, doctor,” Garak oozed, “whatever _did_ you hear?”

Julian fretted, glancing away, then back. “They’re talking about us.”

“Are you surprised? Why do you think I was listening in?”

“Are you listening to them now?”

“If I was able to hear them over your voice, doctor, I’d have much less to say to you.”

Julian breathed out. “They’re—” He paced away, then came back, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “My mother thinks we’re not happy.”

“Yes, she’s quite beside herself, given you didn’t inform her of your marriage until after the fact.”

“No, no— Not me and _her_! You and _me_.” Rather wretchedly, Julian impressed, “She thinks _you and me_ are in trouble.”

“Oh?” Garak cocked his head to the side. “Why so?”

“We’re standing close and not embracing,” Julian started. “And because I snapped at you when I approached you just now, and I ignored you when you came in. And we look like we’re arguing right now. And apparently, according to _Ezri_ , I’m – submitting to you.”

Garak noted that Julian’s eyes kept flicking downward as he spoke. “Do you agree?”

Eyes met. “About what?”

“That you’re submissive.”

“No!” Julian drew himself up, cross. “Of course I don’t.”

Garak relaxed and let his shoulders drop. “Neither do I,” he said, softly, eyes lowering to Julian’s lips.

Julian sucked in a tiny breath. “You just— Your whole posture changed. Garak, what the hell are you doing?”

“Proving your mother wrong,” Garak said. He curled a hand around Julian’s, taking hold of it; Julian’s lips parted, his breath catching. “I wouldn’t want her to think you’re unhappy.”

Julian seemed annoyed for a moment, but as Garak let their fingers split between each other, a lopsided smile rose on his face, and he said, quietly, “Ezri’s pointing out that arguing is how Cardassians flirt.”

“And?” Garak murmured. Raising Julian’s knuckles to his lips, he breathed heat against the delicate, uncalloused skin. “Is this how Humans flirt?”

“You know it is,” Julian said softly. He tried to take back his hand, and Garak let him, taking the smell of spiced soap with him. “No need to go overboard, Garak; I think she got the message.”

Garak watched Julian turn away.

“It’s most interesting to me that it bothers you,” Garak remarked, following Julian by two steps, tail curled in quiet delight. “Now you’d rather your mother thought of us as happily married, even after you were so determined to have her hate me.”

Julian sat down, eyes on his screen. “Fascinating as this discussion is, I am rather busy, you know. I’d suggest you find something to occupy your time until my shift ends.”

Garak’s glee faded at Julian’s dismissive tone. Still hopeful, however, he asked, “Lunch afterwards, then?”

Julian glanced back, checked Garak’s expression – likely saw open eagerness there – and nodded. “It’s a... date.” He turned away, covering his mouth with a hand.

  


★

  


Garak took Amsha down the Promenade towards his tailor’s shop, pointing out the jumja stall and Quark’s bar along the way. She enjoyed the view, but beyond observing the other species around her and watching people interact, she didn’t seem interested in trying anything, even when asked. So, Garak led her into his own clothier’s store and let her elbow go free.

“This, dear lady, is where I create my masterpieces,” Garak said, trying to sound proud rather than resigned.

“Jules said you were a tailor, I assumed that meant you did alterations. You... make the clothes too?”

“Both. It’s a modest living.” Garak smiled, going around his cutting table and towards a dressform with a half-complete outfit hanging limp, white with golden accents. He lifted its sleeve, and smiled. “And I must say, it does have its perks.”

“What are you working on?”

Garak peered over his shoulder, touched to see Amsha closing in behind him, genuinely interested in his project. Her eyes sparkled like Julian’s did when he asked questions.

“This, Mrs. Bashir,” Garak said with suppressed excitement, “is something special I’m creating for our dear Julian. But don’t tell him, will you; it’s meant as a little surprise of mine.”

“Ohh.” She touched her heart, scrunching into her ruby-red tunic. “I’m sure he’ll love it. It’s beautiful.”

“Ah, and so too is your son,” Garak said without reserve. “I do _adore_ dressing him up. He is, by far, the prettiest doll I’ve ever played with.”

Amsha laughed warmly, head down, fingertips to her chin. “I was very much in love with dressing him when he was a child, as well.”

“Then we have this in common, it seems,” Garak beamed. He smiled more softly when she met his eyes. “Although I will admit that whatever I create for him seems so lackluster in comparison. Your artwork far outshines my own.”

Amsha lowered her eyes in guilt. “Does he ever...” She glanced away.

“Kindest lady, don’t hesitate to ask me anything,” Garak urged, facing her and taking her hand. “There’s a good chance that if it concerns Julian, I know the answer.”

Amsha looked at him bravely, a familiar clench to her jaw. “I know Jules despises me for what my husband and I did to him. But – does he ever wish that it could be undone? Does he want to go back to how things were, the person he could have been? Would he want to give up the gifts we gave him?”

Garak kept on holding her steady, being careful to keep his tail still and not give away his agitation. “The answer to _that_ , I’m afraid, is not one I can tell you.”

“But you _do_ know.”

A surprised smile found its way to Garak’s lips, then his eyes. “You are every bit as astute as your son, dear woman. Every bit.”

Amsha slipped her hand from Garak’s, turning her eyes away without deferring to him, anger in her shoulders but placation in her expression. “Jules was right. Richard and I – we made our choice too early. Perhaps we should have waited longer. Or done nothing at all.”

“Perhaps,” Garak said.

He left the discussion there, and turned back to the dressform, unwilling to thrash out an old lunchtime rant on the doctor’s behalf. Amsha had been on the station a day and Julian had already eaten dinner and breakfast with her, yet hadn’t brought up their dark history. Garak was starting to wonder if Julian had avoided his mother for years, and now avoided confrontation, not just because he didn’t want to have an argument about her choices, but because it wasn’t the right argument to have.

Julian hadn’t forgiven his mother for what she did, but he was wondering if he could. If he wanted to, even.

It seemed likely that the answer was no.

But even so, Amsha had asked Garak the right questions. And Garak did know the answers. Given the choice now, Julian would not give up the ‘gifts’ he’d been given. The genetic snips and stitches and alterations had become part of him. He’d been tailor-made, and he didn’t want to go back to being some unknown, unfinished pattern, not knowing what or who he’d be without the embellishments.

Garak harboured a private doubt within himself, besides: if Julian were a different man, would Garak care for him the way he did now?

It pained him to wonder. But he did often wonder.

He enjoyed Julian for everything he was today, and if he’d become that person via his parents’ elective mistakes... were they truly mistakes?

Garak wanted Amsha to like him because he was grateful to her. As morally wrong as her decisions had been, Garak did not hate her for making them. He never could.

She’d given him the love of his life.

  


★

  



	4. Right in Front of Miles

“So how _was_ dinner with your mother tonight?” Miles asked, still wiping his face with his towel as he trudged through the hallways with Julian, racket slung over one shoulder. “Still regretting letting her through the airlock?”

Julian let that quip go, sighing. “As it turns out, _she’s_ not the problem.”

“No?”

“It’s _Garak_ ,” Julian complained, resting the tip of his racket on the toe of his tennis shoe and kicking it as he walked. “My mother keeps telling me about all the ‘wonderful’ things he’s said about our history. At first I thought he was committed to telling her the truth – I mean, that’s _rare_ , but not unheard of for him when he wants to win someone over – but tonight she’s been practically gushing about how Garak fell ‘tail over heels’ in love with me. She said something about how he shows love with his gifts and acts of service and _quality time_ and I’m – just—” Julian wafted his racket along the hallway, knocking an invisible ball. “Trust a liar to return to making up stories when he runs out of ideas. I should’ve known.”

They approached Julian’s quarters, but Miles started hanging back a bit. Julian glanced over his shoulder and saw the consternation on his friend’s face.

“What?” Julian asked.

“So— How _are_ those lies, exactly?” Miles asked, tossing his towel to rest over his shoulder. “I don’t know Garak as well as you do, all right, but saying he hasn’t spent the last, what, six or seven years showering you with rare, expensive treats and new clothes and hours and hours and _hours_ at lunch or in the holosuites, not to _mention_ how he basically switched sides in the Dominion War because, let’s face it, you’re on _this_ side... You’d have to be totally oblivious not to call those demonstrations of love, Julian.”

Julian scoffed. “Garak and I are friends, Miles. Good friends. It’s what we do.”

“Don’t see him tying Delavian chocolates up with a glittery pink bow for Odo, do you? Or you writing _me_ forty-page book reports because your lunch date was too short to cover everything you wanted to say for your _critical response_. And when was the last time you held _my_ hand to comfort _me_ in Sickbay, huh?”

“That’s different. We’re— We’re different.”

“Well, yeah!” Miles chuckled. “I’m not your husband.”

Julian stopped in the hallway mere feet from his door. “Miles, _no_. Oh, I can’t believe this! You actually think—” Julian laughed, shaking his head and storming to his doors. “I really can’t— _Aghast_ , Miles, that’s what I am. I’m aghast that you can even _imagine_ a world where I’m secretly _married_ to _Garak_.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“No! I’m _not_!”

He opened his doors with the thumbpad and stalked inside, Miles behind him.

“Oh, well look who’s here,” Miles remarked, having seen Garak ahead by the window.

Garak turned halfway, curious. Julian blushed hot. The Cardassian was dressed in the loose white pants from his sleepwear; Julian’s silky navy-blue robe hung from bare shoulders, his thick grey tail lifting out from under its hem. And, oh... he was topless under the robe...

How _dare_ he make Julian blush like this in front of Miles. Garak looked _offensively_ handsome in the stolen bathrobe.

While Julian was burning up, Garak inclined his head to Miles. “Welcome to our humble abode, Mr. O’Brien. How was your game, dear Julian?”

Julian tossed down his racket on the sofa, jaw tight. “Just fine, _dear Elim_.”

Garak spared Julian only the briefest glance, as Miles was getting comfortable on the sofa, taking a breath to ask, “So – wait, how long have you been living together? Definitely wasn’t this scalding hot in here before. Garak... you weren’t here last time I dropped by – were you?”

“No,” Julian said firmly, starting to fumble around behind his back to locate the zipper of his white-turquoise catsuit. “He most certainly was not.”

“You moved in... when, this week?”

“For goodness’ sake,” Julian blurted, wrenching himself out of the top half of his exercise outfit, “he moved in as a _cover_. Right before my mother got here.” He grunted and kicked and wriggled out of his catsuit behind the sofa, then straightened his underwear, shooting Garak a glare because he was _looking_ , and at least Miles had the decency to look elsewhere while Julian was changing.

“Wait,” Miles said, perplexed. “You’re saying it’s all made up? You’re _not_ married?”

“Was that not obvious enough?” Julian cried. “Good _God_ , Miles, do you honestly think I would—”

His breath caught. Julian couldn’t accuse Garak of being unattractive when Garak had such a knowing sparkle in his blue eyes and a softness to his smile, now approaching Julian with tender steps, hazing Julian’s senses with that pillow-sweet scent he adored more than he’d ever admit.

“It’s a lie, that’s all,” Julian whispered again, rather desperately, sweltering in pleasure and panic as Garak stepped into his personal space. A waft of warm air touched Julian’s bare chest and thighs, making him tingle.

“Ah,” Garak said lightly, “but, my dear...” He came too close, and put the tiniest little kiss on Julian’s naked shoulder. Eyes blazing with delight, he straightened, tall and proud. “There’s always truth in a good lie.”

Julian stared at him, breathless, heart pounding in his throat and eardrums. Shivers had erupted throughout his body, and he fought hard to ignore every sensation. Especially the pulse between his legs.

“Oh, before I forget!” Garak bustled off, going to his rack of clothes at the side of the room. He pulled a hanger into one hand, the outfit draped from the other palm. It was white, short, and elegant – and was being offered to Julian. “A gift! For my dear husband. Try it, won’t you? After you’ve washed, of course.”

Julian took the hanger, staring at the robe. “You made this?”

“I hardly bought it, did I?”

Julian couldn’t help but snicker. He ducked his head, uttered, “Thank you, Garak,” then rolled his eyes and left the room to take a shower. “Be nice to Miles while I’m gone.”

“I wouldn’t dream of being anything else,” Garak declared, and sat down beside Julian’s sweaty friend.

  


★

  


Julian emerged from the bathroom into his dark bedroom, naked, drying his hair on a towel. He heard the mutters of Miles and Garak conversing behind the wall, amicable tones and even a lilt of amusement from Miles.

Wearing an easy smile, Julian padded closer, dropping the towel on the bed. He listened, wanting to know what they said...

“ _Working on the EPS relays is probably my favourite,_ ” Miles said. “ _Complicated and dangerous, sure, but once you get your head around the individual parts it’s a fast run-up to the finish line._ ”

Julian exhaled a silent laugh, turning away. Of course they’d talk about engineering. Besides the parts of their lives spent as soldiers, or their love for good food, engaging stories, and one Julian Bashir, knowledge of circuitry was really all they had in common.

It was quiet for a bit, while Julian put on the outfit Garak made for him. It smelled blissfully clean and new. The fabric was cool against Julian’s chest, and didn’t seem to warm up even as he tied the waistbelt. It was a relief to be rescued from the heat of the room, and, as he stroked down his chest, he realised that was the point: this fabric was designed to keep him comfortable in an environment on the verge of extreme to Humankind.

Julian turned to look towards the open bedroom door, thrilled by the possibility that Garak _had_ told Amsha the truth. Gifts, acts of service... Were these acts of love? They certainly felt like them.

“ _One question,_ ” Miles said. “ _You, uh. You happy?_ ”

“ _Am I... happy?_ ” Garak replied.

“ _Yeah. With Julian. Fake marriage or not— Do you feel like this situation is... working for you? Maybe it’s none of my business, but – you seem pretty into it. Calling Julian your husband and all. Honestly, this might be the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Least confrontational I’ve seen you, anyway._ ”

Garak chuckled quietly. “ _Oh... yes,_ ” he promised. “ _I’m enjoying this immensely._ ” Then, after a pause, he sighed, and added quietly, “ _I do_ wish _he felt the same way._ ”

“ _...Huh,_ ” Miles said.

Julian’s heart dropped to his stomach. He palmed his eyes, head down. He didn’t know whether or not he wanted to march out there and debate that revelation. Whether or not Julian felt his privacy had been invaded by Garak’s presence, whether or not he was starting to _enjoy_ feeling exposed and vulnerable around him – it hurt that Garak thought he hated it entirely. Julian had been so determined not to look like he was comfortable being in a relationship with Garak that he’d succeeded. Everyone believed they were in love except Garak himself.

And now...? It was beginning to look like Garak’s endless pretenses weren’t lies after all, and Julian was breaking the poor man’s heart, too afraid to return his affections.

Julian stroked the soft, cool fabric tied around him. It was a pretty robe. It fit his slender form better than his blue one, and no doubt that was the reason Garak stole the blue one away to wear. But this wasn’t just an outfit to clothe his naked form. It was love, wrapped all around Julian in a hug that Garak had never felt permitted to give directly.

Sinking snugly into determination, Julian tightened the robe a bit, then stepped out in bare feet, seeing Garak and Miles still on the sofa, each with a drink in their hand.

“Elim?” Julian said softly.

Garak looked around himself, then looked back over the sofa. His expression went from blank to exultant, and he cried out, “Oh, my dear doctor!” He got up, handing his drink blindly to Miles. “How fabulously it fits you. I had all your measurements in mind but no lifeless model could fill fabric with soul like the man it was _truly_ made for.”

Garak stopped short of Julian, three paces away, eyes alight with contentment... and longing.

Julian closed the distance; Garak startled, tail turning to a zig-zag. Julian just grinned, and let Garak waver at their new proximity.

“I’ll tell you this much, Garak,” Julian said. He took a breath and lifted his chin, gazing at Garak brightly. “I love it. Very much. Dare I say it, it might actually be the best thing I’ve ever worn.”

“Oh.” Garak seemed to tremble. “My dear, dear doctor, I’m— I’m so glad. Compliments like that please a humble tailor well beyond words.”

“Then...” Julian shrugged, and whispered: “don’t... use... words...?” He lowered his gaze to Garak’s grey lips, then back up to meet his eyes.

It took Garak a second to recognise that as an invitation. But he didn’t respond, not until Julian nudged his nose forward, asking again without a sound. Garak huffed in surprise... then hummed in want...

Then after one more hesitation, he leaned in to kiss Julian lightly on the lips, one hand cupping his cheek.

Julian parted his lips and shut his eyes, breathing in deeply as Garak's hands on his face held him close. Weakened by the full-body thrum that overtook him, thumping and _sizzling_ under his skin, Julian _moaned_.

Immediately he wrenched his chin away with a gasp, fighting for oxygen and a clear head. Miles was staring from the sofa, holding his drink, open-mouthed. Garak looked a little lost and afraid now.

Julian’s palms and fingertips pushed gently against Garak’s bare chest – his intention being to keep him away before he got any ideas about stealing a second kiss – only to find himself beguiled by the Cardassian’s heat and the rise and fall of his breast as he breathed...

Julian snatched his fists down to his sides – then hesitated.

He wanted... more...?

Breathless, driven by a long-buried instinct and the hot urges of the moment... he slid his palms back where they were before.

Terror and desire fought inside him, burning him from the inside out. Even the cooling fabric couldn’t save him from that.

Julian met Garak’s eyes. Garak looked back, in want.

Another kiss? Maybe...

Looking one part overwhelmed and two parts helpless, Garak took Julian by the waist... and Julian just gave up and gave _in_ , falling up into Garak’s touch, lips to lips.

“Mmmmh,” Julian sighed and relaxed into the kiss. Surges of hot starlight coursed through him.

Heads tilting.

Kiss... kiss...

Kiss.

After that many kisses, they ceased to be singular events, and became one long, pushy, nudgy consolidation; their hums and sighs and heartbeats merged into one thick, gorgeous feeling. They remained wrapped deeply in each other’s arms, breathing each other’s air, tasting the tips of each other’s tongues on the shores of a new country.

Julian heard the clap of Miles’ empty glass as it tapped down to the coffee table.

Only moments later came the double hiss of the doors as they opened and shut.

Realising they were alone, Julian let his mouth slip from the kiss, feeling his lips throbbing, air searing over their slick seam as he exhaled.

“Garak,” came Julian’s unsure quaver, eyes afraid to meet. “What are we _doing_?”

Garak’s hands shifted on Julian’s waist, tighter, looser, then just holding on. “All part of the act, my dear,” he offered. It was a sweet thing to say, really; he was giving Julian the choice to set this moment aside and pretend it didn’t count. A fake marriage came with fake kisses.

Unable to find a coherent reason to resist, Julian gazed into Garak’s eyes, then thoughtlessly eased in for another kiss.

Slowly, Garak took him close and held him, smooching and cradling his jaw like before. Julian gave himself over to the bliss of it all, letting a pleasured “ _Ah_ ,” slip from his open mouth with a sigh. Growing dizzy, his head fell back. Garak began to kiss his neck; a low drone of gladness emerged from him, vibrating in Julian’s throat.

Julian let himself be guided inch by inch, footsteps backwards, hands pushing him unhurriedly.

They left the light of the living room and plunged into the thrumming darkness of the bedroom where the air was stifling. Garak kissed Julian to the bed, and he fell back with a bump to the knees – but caught himself and stood again, palms moving curiously to Garak’s ridged jawline, while Garak held Julian’s eyes and undid his new robe, letting air rush down his exposed front like warm water.

The darkness seemed to whisper and lick at Julian, and he let it take him down, holding that blue, hungry gaze as Garak craned over Julian on the foot of the bed, a hand sweeping the robe wider, touching... touching... Clavicle, to nipple, to belly, to hipbone. There he ceased his descent, and he slung his palm under Julian’s waist, underneath him, touching his buttocks. Julian flickered with a smile, a tiny gasp of pleasure fleeing him.

Garak smiled in return. Lowering his face with eyes closed, he put a kiss on the side of Julian’s neck.

Julian stretched out, moaning gently. “Elim...”

“Mhhh,” Garak groaned against Julian’s neck, “How beautifully you say my name.”

Giving a happy hum, Julian pushed Garak’s ridged forehead back, stroking spread fingers through his sleek hair. As the same hand trailed back to Garak’s jaw, Garak kissed Julian’s inner wrist, slowly, hotly, breathing out there for a while.

What an intimate little gesture.

Julian took a breath to speak, smiling, but then saw the raw, unquestionable adoration in Garak’s eyes—

Garak saw Julian falter. “Is something the matter?”

“No...” Julian then sat up, pushing Garak back. “S-Sorry, I just—” He hesitated, then he got up, gulping twice. “I-I-I need to stop. What _are_ we doing? You and me? No. No, I—” He stumbled properly to his feet, tying his robe in a hurry. “We can’t do this. We shouldn’t.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because—”

Julian had a hundred reasons but none of them were good enough, and he knew it. “Because,” he said again.

Turning away from Garak’s shattered expression, he snatched up the first proper clothes he found in his dresser, stumbled into the trousers on the way to the doors, tossed the robe to the sofa, and put on his top as the doors opened.

He left his quarters, barefoot, and emerged into a blast of ice-cold air. He had expected it to feel unwelcome, but after the all-consuming candescence of the moments past, the chill was nothing but a relief.

  


★

  



	5. Tail Over Heels

Julian sat alone at Quark’s bar, knees to the bar itself, hands around a mug of root beer, which was not that fizzy and was getting warmer every minute that Julian didn’t drink it. His feet were bare, and he was wearing Garak’s trousers, which were too wide and too short on him, but nobody seemed to have noticed.

Further along the bar to the right, Quark and Odo bickered – and following that observation, Julian’s brain added, ‘ _like an old married couple_ ’.

He was trying not to think about marriage. So he looked left, only for his eyes to land on Rom and Leeta having a very nice evening in a quiet corner, dining together, deep in conversation.

With a stiff sigh, Julian took a sip of his drink; he held it in his mouth for as long as it took to set the mug back down on the bartop. He swallowed and hummed a little as he sighed again.

He heard a joyous laugh behind him and turned – there was Kasidy, swaying past in a form-fitting, elegant red dress with a ruffle down the front and over her shoulder. Sisko followed a half-step behind her with his hand pressed guidingly to her lower back. Julian’s head whipped from one shoulder to the other; his eyes followed the couple as they began to climb the stairs, no doubt on their way to the holosuites.

Head down again, gaze swimming in his softly-bubbling drink, Julian’s thoughts drifted back to their inevitable resting place: Garak.

Why _did_ Julian leave? And in such a hurry, too. It wasn’t like he stopped having fun when Garak touched him. It wasn’t like it didn’t feel _wonderful_ to be looked at that way.

Julian drank a bit more and thought hard.

The obvious worry was that this was all happening so fast. Barely a day had passed since Garak offered to be Julian’s fake husband, just for convenience’s sake, and now—? Now they were doing things, saying things, wanting things that made Julian doubt Garak’s intentions... and his own. He doubted that it was a lie.

No, it was more than doubt. It was knowledge. What Julian and Garak had – it was everything other couples had. Odo and Quark could bicker for eternity and nobody ever questioned the fact they cared for each other. Leeta and Rom dined and talked about revolution and triviality alike, and they made each other laugh, harbouring no qualms about being affectionate. Sisko and Kasidy lived for passion, finding safety and comfort in each other, while never shying away from the urge to burn the world around them and all the rules just to keep each other close.

Julian had all of that and more with Garak. Years had passed, and even as platonic friends, there was barely a difference between their interactions than those of romantic partners. All except a few details...

And there lay the rub: after playing the part of a couple, too easily, too comfortably, if they went through with what they’d started tonight – if they kissed, if they touched, if they were intimate in ways platonic friends weren’t often intimate – wouldn’t that mean they were really a couple?

And not just a couple, but _married_?

People around here had seen Julian and Garak on ‘dates’. They’d seen them touch, bicker, flirt. They’d heard about the missions and adventures and misadventures. It was no secret that the two of them were dear to each other. Besides close acquaintances getting upset that they hadn’t been invited to the wedding, nobody seemed to bat an eyelid at the news of Julian and Garak’s ‘secret marriage’.

If, once Amsha Bashir was off the station, Julian and Garak _didn’t_ announce a breakup... essentially, they’d remain married. Socially, at least. Julian had no intention of ending his friendship with Garak, which meant... this was a forever kind of deal.

How much of a problem was that, anyway? It wasn’t like Julian had been comparably satisfied by any other romantic partnership, ever, in his life. Frustrating as it was to know, Garak already had the title of Longest Ever Relationship. Being with him for the foreseeable future, maybe for the rest of their lives, wouldn’t exactly be an unwelcome thing.

Julian tutted, swirling his drink and watching the bubbles twist in an amber spiral.

Further thoughts were interrupted with a swish of red as Kira came to perch on Julian’s right. “Hey,” she said. She waved Quark away; she didn’t want anything.

“Colonel.” Julian offered a small smile.

“So,” Kira said, “I hear you’re married to Garak now.”

Julian snorted, half-amused. “I suppose I am,” he remarked, wondering if his tone sounded too bitter.

Yes, apparently it did, as Kira responded with concern. She tilted her head a little, eyes soft, and said, “Look... Julian... I know I’ve been... _abrasive_ about Garak in the past. Prophets help me, he’s never going to be my favourite person. You get that, I know you get that. But...” She sighed. 

“I appreciate that you care about him,” Kira continued. “I care about him too. And for what it’s worth, I hope you’re— I hope you’ve been happy together. And that you’ll still feel safe enough to remain involved, even though everyone knows about you now.”

She hesitated, then said with complete sincerity, “I’m sorry if I, or any of our friends ever made you feel like you couldn’t be _open_ about how you feel about him. I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide. And I... I really hope you’ll be able to forgive us for that someday.”

Julian stared at her, speechless.

She didn’t seem to expect a response; she slipped from her stool, touched Julian on the shoulder, and left, fading among the bustle of the crowds and heading off to meet Ezri at the dabo wheel.

Julian needed a moment to recover. As much as Kira had misunderstood the situation, her intentions were... appreciated. Very much.

Shaking his head, Julian rubbed a hand over his eyes and decided to stop playing games with himself, forget being shy about it all, and just figure this mess out properly.

Look. The fact was this: Garak was almost certainly in love with him. They’d kissed. It felt nice. It felt right. It felt _inevitable_.

But Julian...

As vile as it felt to think about, he knew something terrible about himself: after too many regretful screw-ups with women, especially with his most vulnerable medical patients, he’d come to realise with Ezri’s help that he had trouble distinguishing between being in love with someone and being appreciated by them. He’d help someone; they’d admire him. Then, the two of them would share one moment of emotional vulnerability together – and Julian thought that meant they were in love.

Garak loved him, certainly, but Julian _couldn’t tell_ if he loved Garak in return or just wanted to reciprocate for the intimate attention it would get him.

Yes, Julian liked the thought of making love to his _husband_. Even as the idea crossed his mind it made his belly tingle. But enjoying the urge to sleep with Garak didn’t mean he had to act on it. He’d learned that sometimes it was best not to.

So, how would he ever know? How could he ever figure out if he was in love? He didn’t want to offer himself to Garak, potentially forever, if someday Julian would wake up and realise he’d used Garak’s love as a way to bolster his own ego. He cared about Elim too much to let that happen.

Wait...

Love. That _was_ love.

Wasn’t it?

Yes, of course. Did he love Garak? Obviously.

But was it romantic?

Julian’s mind scrambled; it chewed through the last few days, trying to recollect every intimate instance and every euphoric moment hidden under shame, hidden under the cloak of irritation that covered his vulnerability. Somewhere amongst it all, there had to be an answer.

_When did you fall in love with me?_

Garak had asked – not in those exact words – but he’d asked. To reply, Julian had gone digging into his memories of lunch dates and laughter and intent conversations, remembering how his feelings for Garak had grown keener and denser inside him with each passing week. Cautious interactions had become steeped in affection and a gripping, grasping connection that had kept them bonded and falling closer every year since.

That first question, Julian had been able to answer. _I had a crush right away. Fell in love in our second or third year._

_When did we first kiss?_

That one had stumped him. He struggled to make up memories.

The root beer in Julian’s hand trembled as static zipped down his back, chilling him from the inside out. “Can’t make up memories,” he said under his breath.

If that were true... then how did he know when he’d fallen in love?

Julian exhaled in a blast, almost laughing. He left his root beer where it was, unfinished, and got off his stool to leave.

  


★

  


His quarters were dark when he returned. Garak had to be asleep. Not wanting to wake him, not even to sneak past to wash the station’s dirt off the soles of his feet, Julian went to the sofa and lay down.

He refused to let himself think. He’d done enough thinking for one night, and it had drained him completely.

Mind forced blank, breaths forced slow and deep, he fell asleep within minutes.

  


★

  


Julian stirred from a fuzzy nothing, feeling softness on his forearms and a cool fabric draping up to his chin. Fingers tucked the blanket down around his neck...

Drawing a deep breath, Julian murmured, “Hmm?”

When he heard no answer, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times to see in the gloom. The only light came from the stars through the portholes, but Julian’s augmented vision picked out the glint of Garak’s eyes and the smallest tilt of his apologetic smile.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, my friend,” Garak murmured. “Please, if you’d like to take the bed, I’ll happily take the couch.”

“Hm.” Julian squirmed, palming sleep from his foggy eyes. “No.”

Garak bowed. “Then I’ll let you rest. Goodnight... Julian.”

He moved to leave – but Julian sat up, sniffing a breath in, reaching out. “Wait.”

Garak waited, standing by the end of the sofa.

“Sit.” Julian scrunched back his legs, pulling the blanket closer and giving Garak room to sit. “I want to talk to you.”

Slowly, Garak did as he was told. He glowed a little in the light now, as he was as pale as his sleepwear, and he’d fallen into a starlit beam as he sat. His tail lay beside his thigh; its tapered end draped off the side of the sofa, unmoving. His eyes were such a perfect blue, his attention absolute.

“Elim...?” Julian shuddered through a breath. “I, um. I need to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth.”

Garak pondered giving a snarky response or half-promising with the intention to deceive if needed – but in the end, he inclined his head. “The truth, then.”

“Um... It’s— It’s about all the things you discussed with my mother this afternoon just gone,” Julian started. “Eh-Everything you told her, told _me_ about the moments you... fell in love... first thought about kissing me, all the... the lunch dates. In your exact words, she quoted, you fell ‘tail over heels’...” Julian gulped, hugging his crooked knees when he saw Garak remain pointedly unreactive. “Garak, was that real? Or did you lie to her?”

Garak started to smile. “Yes and no.”

Julian flushed with annoyance. “Don’t get smart with me, Garak, just answer the question.”

“I think you’ll find you asked two questions. And I answered both.”

Julian groaned quietly, rubbing a palm over his forehead.

“The first,” Garak said, before slowing down, voice soft... “Yes. Yes, it was real.” He met Julian’s startled eyes. “The second, no. I did not lie to her.”

“...Tail over heels...?”

“It’s quite the joyride,” Garak replied, a smile in his voice. “I look at you and feel like I’m... spinning. Falling. Deep into a cataclysmic abyss where your kindness is beautiful agony to me, and satisfaction at your touch is the worst thing to feel. I’ll admit,” he bowed his head, eyes averted, “I live in want of your requite, but I can’t ask it of you. Believe me, were it not for your determination to lie about your marital status, I would never have said a word to you.”

“Yet you told my _mother_ about – how you feel.”

“Perhaps I have a flaw not so different to yours,” Garak said. “Where your family finds me charming, I find you and your kind too easy to talk to. With so few words she... pulled honesty from me. I’ve never experienced such effortless torture.”

Julian gave a grim smirk. “Now you know why I was so eager to leave Earth. I wanted secrets, and I was allowed none.”

“Now you have one more secret to enjoy,” Garak said carefully, eyes darting away. “If you would keep it for me, I would be much obliged.”

“Oh, Garak,” Julian crooned, scooting closer, smiling soppily. He turned on the sofa and sat pressed to Garak’s side. While tugging the blanket to cover both their laps, he wrapped his arms around Garak’s warm middle. Julian pushed a kiss to Garak’s shoulder and breathed in deeply, brought to life by his scent. “I’ll keep your secret, Elim,” he whispered. He lifted his chin, gaze searching for Garak’s. Finding it. Keeping it. “If you’ll keep mine?”

Garak’s eyes skipped back and forth between each of Julian’s. “And what, pray, might that secret be?”

Julian smiled. He shut his eyes and gave Garak the tiniest kiss on the lips.

“When this all started, Garak – do you remember? – you asked me what kind of romantic affection I like best. And I – hh-ah... well? The answer is... anything you care to give. I don’t hate this,” Julian reiterated. “I’m sorry for acting as though I didn’t like it, and I’m _sorry_ that that hurt you. The truth is I’m really enjoying... being with you.”

He only saw Garak’s eyes widen a little before Julian snuggled down with him, making him lie on the sofa, legs stretching out and hands slipping to hold tight.

Julian felt Garak’s tail squash under his knee, and with a yip from Garak and a hurried, breathy apology from Julian, they rejumbled their weight until they lay comfortably: Garak rested on his back, tail curling lazily off the side of the sofa. Julian curled up contained within Garak’s cradling arms, cheek to his chest. He heard that thumping lizard heart in one ear – _boom, boom, boom_ – and he timed his own slow breaths to it, eyes falling shut.

Garak put a kiss on Julian’s head.

Julian peeked up, smiling.

Their eyelids drooped shut again. Over the following half-hour, Julian was lulled to sleep by thick, dextrous fingers combing through his hair, and the deep, rumbly breaths of his Cardassian lover.

  


★

  


Julian woke in false daylight, bleary-eyed and achy as Garak slipped out from his embrace.

One groggy, useless moment of almost-sleep fizzled away to awareness, and Julian tipped his head back into the sofa cushions, then propped himself up on an elbow and looked around.

Garak was getting dressed.

God, just seeing him here, so relaxed, made Julian’s chest squeeze with delight. Damn, he loved him. Oh, so much. The sensation was stupendous. Why Julian had ever questioned that feeling, let alone for so many years, was totally beyond him.

“Nice tail,” Julian croaked.

Garak glanced over, halfway into his trousers. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Hm, I mean it,” Julian promised with a smile. “You sleep well?”

“Dreamless and peaceful. You?”

“Crick in my neck now, but mm-hm.” Julian got up, a shy hand covering his too-tight crotch as he passed Garak. “‘Scuse me.” Garak offered him a sweet smile but no words.

Once back from the bathroom, refreshed and dressed in his uniform, Julian trudged to the replicator – only for Garak to touch his lower back, drawing his attention.

“No need, my dear; I already put together your favourite,” Garak said, offering two scones, the butter visibly melting, waves of steam rising from the plate. Red moba jam peeked out from the middle of each scone.

Julian took the plate, dazed by the gesture.

Garak smiled, leaned in, and gave Julian a kiss, fingers curled under his chin. Then he turned away to get his own breakfast. With a flip of ecstasy in his heart, Julian realised this really _was_ the relationship he needed, wanted, had been waiting for. He’d experienced slices and shadows of similar feelings for other people; they’d handed him breakfast or given him kisses or engaged him in passionate conversations just the same, but he’d never had it _all at once_ with the same person and had it feel _this_ good.

For the first time in his life, he was loved before _he_ fell in love. He hadn’t needed to chase after Garak; Garak had come to him. Julian was loved despite, or because of, his flaws. Despite, or because of, his failures. Despite, or because of, his secrets.

Garak loved him for all the hidden baggage as well as the surface sheen. And, it seemed that deep down, Julian had loved him the same way for longer than he’d ever consciously realised.

It seemed like a miracle revelation, but it lifted his heart nevertheless: Julian wasn’t going to screw this relationship up.

Garak was the one for him.

  


★

  



	6. Good Cake

Julian knew he was rambling. His mother didn’t stop him, not even to ask questions, so he happily bounced from topic to topic in what seemed like a logical progression as they strolled the Promenade. Moving lightly on his feet and feeling bright in his heart, the smile on Julian’s face never wavered, and he relished the opportunity to detail every part of life on this station to his mother.

“Actually, the Human body – or non-Human body, for that matter – adjusts quite comfortably to a twenty-six hour cycle. Of course it helps that daylight is regulated artificially— But then we have the ongoing problem of _major_ deficiencies in ergocalciferol and cholecalciferol – vitamin D, that is – wildly common in long-term off-world deployment, particularly in Humans—”

Between all the words that came out of his mouth, his mind wandered a little. But not too far. He thought about how validating it was to be listened to, especially by his mother. As much as he’d resented her choices made throughout and _about_ his life, and as unwilling as he’d been to entertain her on DS9 at first, it was still... _nice_ to have her near. He still wasn’t sure if he forgave her, or whether he even needed or wanted to, but he enjoyed her company anyway. He did love her. Renewed love was a splendid thing to experience, and he looked forward to deepening that feeling.

Which was why it came as a shock when he paused for breath and felt his mother touch his arm, easing them to a halt near the Replimat, and all she had to say was, “I’m leaving.”

Julian’s stomach clenched. “I— I’m sorry? Leaving? Already? You’ve only been here a few days!”

Amsha’s smile was plain yet understanding. “You have so much work to do, here, Jules. I couldn’t impose any longer.”

“Impose— Mother, no, it’s nothing! Please stay.” He took her elbows and held her desperately. “Elim and I have really enjoyed having you around.”

“Jules,” Amsha said, with some halting discomfort that seemed to stick her tongue to her palate for a few moments. She gathered her thoughts and confessed, “I came here because I thought you were avoiding me. I wanted to be sure. I thought— Maybe you hated me.”

“Oh, no,” Julian shook his head. “Mother, no. It— It’s still difficult, after everything; you understand that, but – no, I don’t hate you. I couldn’t _hate_ you.”

A real smile spread across Amsha’s brown lips and seeing it gave Julian such a rush of relief. But even with the smile, it still hurt when she said, “You told me so many times you were too busy to see me.” She sighed a little. “And you do have a full and complete life around you here. You have an incredible group of friends. You’ve started a family. You _are_ busy with more than just your work, and now I can say I understand. Thank you,” she said, lifting a hand to hold his cheek. “Thank you for sharing it all with me, Jules.”

Julian tried not to look guilty. She’d believed all the wrong truths. Or the right lies. How could he speak, now?

“You’re happy here,” Amsha said with another smile. “And that’s all I wanted to be sure of.”

Julian held the back of her hand over his cheek, then he lowered his fingers with hers, holding on between their chests.

“There’s a freighter heading nearby Earth tomorrow afternoon,” Amsha went on. “I’ll be on it. I should really go and pack.”

“Oh, but—” Julian clutched her hand tighter. “Not right now, surely. You’re free tonight, aren’t you? We can have dinner together. I’ll – I’ll make you something special. My treat.”

His mother’s smile seemed to deepen, shining in the dark orbs of her eyes. “You don’t know how much I love that idea.”

Until he’d offered, Julian hadn’t known how much _he_ would love it, either.

  


★

  


Of course, Garak was there when Julian returned to his quarters with Sisko’s cooking instruments, and of course, Garak was the one who knew how to set the portable stove up and turn it on. And of _course_ , he was the one who snatched the water out of Julian’s hand before he added a cupful to the pan sizzling with oil.

“Do you _want_ to go to the Infirmary with oil burns?” Garak demanded to know, setting aside the cupful of water and adding tomatoes instead, which he’d just finished mashing with a fork. “Frankly, Julian, I’d suggest you stick to the areas where you have real expertise and leave the cooking to those with experience.”

“How am I meant to get experience if you don’t let me near the pan?”

Garak eyed him. “Would you like to try pouring water into a pan full of oil? I’m sure you’ll learn, very quickly indeed, _not_ to do that.”

Julian snuffled, mildly affronted. “I think you’ve made your point, Garak.”

“Ah, so you have learned something.”

“Yes. That you’re a domineering boor when it comes to the domestic side of things.”

“Only to save you the humiliation, my dear.”

“Oh, and that explains the fact you put an _apron_ on me, does it? Saves me humiliation, indeed. I haven’t seen this many ruffles since – well, ever. I’m fairly sure Humans outlawed excessive ruffles centuries ago.”

Garak gave him a stale look while pouring something gooey and brown into the pan, and it began to spit. “Tell me again,” Garak said, one hand on Julian’s chest, showing him a stained ruffle, “how much you’d prefer not to wear the apron, and how _much_ you like to get sauce down your beautiful silk shirt.”

Julian glanced down and saw all the fresh splotches, not only from the spitting pan, but from the green beans he’d been sautéing and the fish he’d been basting in spiced marinade.

Julian harrumphed, quietly, in a way that hopefully let Garak know he’d proved Julian wrong but saved him from sounding meek by saying it.

“I’m sorry?” Garak cocked an ear towards Julian. “Cardassian hearing isn’t so good at the best of times, but especially over this _hissing_ pan. What was it you said?”

“Didn’t say anything,” Julian grumped. “Just cook the damn food, Garak.”

“What’s that?” Garak cupped a hand by his ear. “Mumble of the century, that was. Speak up, my dear doctor.”

Julian seethed. “All right!” he burst. “You’re right; I’m wrong; I’m sorry. Now, let’s just put our heads down and make dinner already; my mother’s going to be here in mere minutes and if we’re still bickering when she gets here then—”

“Pardon?” Garak was still struggling to hear.

Julian started to smirk. He rolled his eyes, leaned in close, and gave Garak a kiss on the cheek. Right up against his ear, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Garak gave him a surprised yet warm look as Julian pulled back. “I see,” he said.

“You see better than you hear, at any rate,” Julian uttered, smiling to himself as he took the slivers of marinated fish and lay them piece-by-piece in the pan with the sauce.

Garak reached for the third piece of fish, scolding, “Ah-ah! Too soon for that many! Much too soon— Oh, for the Guls’ sake!”

Julian tutted. “You know what,” he said, rolling his eyes and lifting the apron off the back of his neck, “I’m going to do something less likely to irritate you.” He elbowed Garak fondly as he passed by, going to the bathroom to wash his hands.

He came back and began laying the table, putting out black replicated plates and lighting tall candles, adjusting each knife and fork and spindly, twisty little Cardassian tiskers at each place-setting until they were all perfectly aligned on the napkins.

By the time Julian was done, Garak was carefully transferring their meal into display dishes and digging into each with a silver spoon for serving.

“Care to make the final touches, doctor?” Garak offered, shredding some leaves between his fingertips. “Just a pinch on the top, not too much.” He sprinkled the greenery into Julian’s palm, then supervised as Julian decorated their dinner as artfully as he could. “Not bad,” Garak said approvingly. “There’s hope for your culinary career yet.”

Julian couldn’t help feeling both humbled and appreciated, which was a combination of feelings he especially loved to feel.

The door chimed, and Julian lit up, watching Garak wipe his hands on a dishcloth. “ _Perfect_ timing,” Julian remarked with some surprise.

Garak gave a sly smile. “You say that as if I didn’t set aside time for your mishap with the vegetables. Not to mention a good amount of to-and-fro between us.”

“Oh, yes, that’s my husband, Garak,” Julian said on his way to the door. “Planning _rings_ around me.”

“Not much in the way of rings, but the husband part, certainly. With pleasure. Come in!”

Before Julian could poke at that offhand remark, his mother entered. Julian smiled, welcoming her with a hug. “Gosh, don’t you look lovely,” he cooed, admiring the metallic detailing on her powder-blue sari. “Come on in, get comfortable. We’re ready to serve.”

“All this?” Amsha touched her chest, amazed by the candlelit table now aglow in amber as Garak dimmed the overhead lights. “It smells amazing. My son cooked for me!”

“Oh, it was Garak, really,” Julian said, sliding out a chair for his mother to sit. “I just watched.”

“On the contrary, my dear,” Garak said as he touched Julian’s lower back, eyes dark and loving as he caught Julian’s gaze. He pulled out a chair for him, and Julian sat by his mother at the head of the table, feeling something soft and nice in his chest. “Julian here was absolutely indispensable. I never cook without valued company, and this man has proven himself very _good_ company. And quite the artisan in his own right.”

He sat beside Julian, a big smile stretching across his face. “Please! Take whatever you like; there’s no formality here. Unless there are some family mealtime traditions you feel comfortable sharing with me?”

Amsha and Julian shared a pleased smirk, and with a shake of his head, Julian rushed to serve his mother, nattering about the trouble he went to to acquire fresh fish, and how the sauce was made entirely from scratch.

“It does have a bit of a kick to it,” Garak agreed, somewhat warningly.

“Kanar, isn’t it?” Julian remembered.

“The alcohol has quite burned off, but the flavour remains exquisite,” Garak nodded. He started on his food, humming approvingly and nodding as he ate.

“It’s good,” Amsha agreed, putting together a second, then third bite. “I could do with something like this on Earth.”

Julian, however, had melted towards the table, purring a silly noise and letting his head and eyes roll back. “Oh my _God_ , that’s amashingh,” he mumbled, still chewing as his mouth watered. “Garak, if I loved you before, I love you twice as much now. Mmm.”

Garak beamed. “You do make me wonder, doctor. Had I shown off this particular skill set of mine before now, might I have had your hand in marriage much earlier?”

“Oh, much,” Julian munched, cheeks bulging. “Years.”

“What a fool I’ve been, then,” Garak mused. “Perhaps humility ought to be done away with when there’s a beautiful man to impress.”

“‘ _Perhaps_ ’?” Julian rolled his eyes softly. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do all these years, Garak? Boasting just for the sake of stroking my own ego?”

Garak paused, fork part-way to his mouth, lips parted. “You mean you were trying to impress me?”

“Well, everyone. But especially you.” Julian stuffed his mouth in a hopefully-still-elegant display of carelessness. “Guessh it workh’d. You married me, didn’t you?”

His eyes caught Garak’s, one corner of the table away.

“Yes,” Garak said. “Yes, I did.”

Julian blushed, head down, trying to hide a smile.

Garak drew a breath. “So! Tell me, Mrs. Bashir, what are your plans for after you leave this station? Straight home to Earth, is it?”

Polite as always, Garak had timed his question so that Amsha’s mouth wasn’t full, and she answered without a pause: “I have a conference to attend at the end of next week, and I still have plenty of preparation to do. Now I’ve seen the way so _many_ species exist in such harmony here on the station, I have even more to add to my speech. It was incredible, everything each of you had to say on the matter made me even more certain of my talking points.”

“She’s the keynote speaker this time,” Julian said proudly, explaining to Garak. “Third annual conference on interplanetary relations.”

“Ah yes!” Garak raised a glass of springwine towards Amsha. “You have quite the mind for details, a handsome trait on anyone. I must say, I’ll be following your work closely from now on.”

Julian smirked, “As if a nosy bastard like you wasn’t following her career already. Since when, Garak? Since you learned my mother’s Earth’s biggest advocate for extraterrestrial diversity and cohabitation? Mm, sounds about right.”

“Even before then,” Garak admitted, toasting Amsha again, then sipping his drink. “Since I learned Julian’s last name.”

Julian snorted.

But Amsha seemed flattered. “I suspect you liked my papers on interspecies mating rituals. The fifth one especially.”

“A collection of words more delicious than any morsel to ever pass my lips.” Garak spoke with unbridled sincerity. “If you happen to write a sixth paper, dear lady, I should be honoured to assist in any way I can. If it gives me an excuse to try out some mating rituals on Julian, even better.”

Amsha beamed at Garak, then she tipped her eyes towards Julian. “Jules, if I didn’t say it before... I can see why you married him.”

“Tip of the iceberg, Mother.” Julian smiled to himself. “Tip – of – the iceberg.”

She laughed, but Garak was the one who shot Julian a dastardly, affectionate look. Julian winked and got back to eating.

“What about you?” Amsha asked. “After I leave, what are your plans? More work? More tailoring? Or perhaps you’d redecorate your quarters at last? I remember you said, Elim, there were a few things you’d want to adjust.”

Julian and Garak exchanged an uncertain glance.

“A swift return to business as usual,” Garak supposed. A shadow passed across his otherwise gleaming eyes. “Nothing much to speak of.”

“Hm,” Julian agreed, eyes lowering to his dinner as he cut through it once, twice, then three times. “Although,” he added, with a head-tilt and a wandering fork, “I could set aside some time for the almighty ‘redecoration’. Wouldn’t want Garak to _suffer_ under some under-designed living arrangement.”

Garak gave Julian a blank stare. “That may be, doctor, but without your mother here, there’d be nobody to entertain in our quarters. You like your things a certain way, and I wouldn’t care to impose on your rituals any more than she would.”

Julian’s knife screeched on his plate as he slashed through his already-cut food. “Yes, okay, but haven’t we already established that we ought to do away with humility? I’m sure you could impress _me_ just as much with a new rug and a few vases of flowers as you have with the cooking.”

“Such a trivial gesture it would be, though,” Garak said offhandedly. “What is decor but icing on a cake? Without the cake, what good is the icing?”

Julian slammed his cutlery down and glared at Garak. “What’s happening to the ‘cake’, exactly? Perfectly good ‘cake’.”

“What cake?” Amsha asked.

“A very sweet delicacy,” Garak said, explaining to Amsha while speaking only for Julian’s benefit. “Something we’ve both enjoyed immensely these last few days. However, certain treats do have a limit. The plate empties and ought to be left empty, I believe. Can’t be good, after all, having... ‘cake’ every day.”

Julian’s mouth soured. “Why _not_?”

Amsha smiled. “Jules, you’re the doctor. Everything in moderation, you’ve said it a thousand times.”

“Not everything,” Julian said to Garak, trying not to grit his teeth. “Some things—” His breath caught, and it grew shaky and tight in his throat. He gazed at Garak and finished, pleadingly, “Some things are too good to let go of.”

Garak went still for a few beats, considering Julian’s half-contained show of emotion.

Then he lowered his eyes and said, “I’m afraid it would be quite inappropriate.” He ate some more food, haughty.

Julian clenched his jaw. “Well, _Garak_ , I respectfully disagree.” He turned cold eyes to his mother and said firmly, “I’ve decided. After you’re gone, Mother, Garak and I will – hm – take a little holiday, maybe. Somewhere nice. Somewhere warm. Somewhere romantic, where there’s a lot of... ‘ _cake_ ’ for Garak and I to enjoy.”

“Another trip?” Amsha smiled. “You only just came back from your honeymoon.”

Julian glanced at Garak. “Seems we’re in dire need.”

Garak stared back. Then he lowered his fork, and said curtly, but not unkindly, “Sorry to disappoint you, doctor, but I have far too much work on my plate. No room for that ‘cake’ of yours, as pleasant as it was at the time.”

Julian’s chest clenched.

Garak brightened, and turned to Amsha. “Would you care for dessert?”

Amsha looked unsurely between Garak and the now teary-eyed Julian. “Maybe not,” she said.

  


★

  



	7. Because

Julian arrived at the Docking Ring stiff-shouldered and cold, trying to keep a smile on his face, even as his mother wept briefly on his shoulder. He held her close, kissing the top of her head.

He felt a double loss, and it clawed at him with icy talons, chilling him from the inside out. The warehouse part of the Docking Ring where the freighters came and went wasn’t especially temperate, which wasn’t helping.

A ray of sunshine warmed him for just a moment as Amsha stepped back and said, “Thank you for letting me stay. I love you, Jules, with every part of my heart. Never forget that. And I am... sorry. I’ll never stop being sorry.”

But she lowered her eyes, and the ice came back.

“Mother—” Julian took her hand, and held on as crewpeople bustled past, heading into Kasidy’s freighter as it prepared for departure. “Won’t you stay a bit longer? A few days. A week! There’s so much more I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh, baby,” Amsha cooed, squishing Julian’s chin under a thumb. “You could write, you know. Call me. Earth isn’t so far away. We don’t have to be distant. You know I never wanted that for us.”

Julian managed a smile again. “Alright. I’ll keep in contact.”

Amsha glanced away, and her expression lifted with joy. “Elim! I started to worry you were going to miss the departure.”

“I would never forgive myself if I did,” Garak said smoothly, bowing and offering a folded garment on his outstretched hands. “Apologies for my tardiness; I had finishing touches to add. Please, only look once you’re aboard, I don’t want you to be late. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“You’re too generous,” Amsha said, drawing Garak into a hug. 

The hug surprised him so much that his tail went straight and tripped Sisko as he came past with Kasidy. Kasidy laughed as Sisko recovered from his stumble with grace, but Garak didn’t seem to notice the minor ruckus he’d caused behind him.

Amsha pulled back, satisfied. “Take care of my little boy.”

“I think you’ll find he takes care of me,” Garak admitted. “With more kindness and generosity than I’ll ever deserve.”

 _You can say that again_ , Julian thought bitterly. He reminded himself of last night, when he’d let Garak have the bed to himself while Julian slept on the sofa – because, well, what was the point of sharing a bed when Garak wanted the whole experience to be over already? He wanted to go back to his tiny overheated room and his own closet and his own replicator, and he didn’t want anything to do with Julian anymore. A few days flirting with the idea of being a couple, and he was sick of it already. Too much of a good thing, apparently. Julian had never tasted cake so good, and Garak was ready to throw it out after one lick.

Kasidy passed them. “Mrs. Bashir? You coming or what?” she called to Amsha. She swept a hand closer. “Be quick! We’re on a tight schedule.”

“One minute?” Amsha asked.

Kasidy smiled. “One.” She blew a kiss to Sisko, which he caught and returned. Then, happy, she headed into her ship, leaving the door open for her Earth-bound passenger.

Amsha turned to Julian and hugged him. In a whisper, her lips hidden from Garak’s view by Julian’s head, she imparted some advice: “Don’t let him run from you, Jules. He loves you more than he’s able to say.”

She fell back, giving him a bold look.

Stunned, Julian felt her hand slip from his. She took her luggage and the gift Garak had made her, and turned to board the ship. She looked back as the door rolled shut behind her, and then she went onwards and away.

Julian still stared through the window of the airlock as the shape of the ship vanished until only the speckled darkness of outer space remained.

Garak drew a long breath, then let it go. His side pressed to Julian’s left. “Quite the adventure that was.”

Sisko sighed, lingering now Kasidy was gone, but finally pulled himself together and trudged past, glancing back a few times. Julian looked over his shoulder and offered the captain a flat smile.

Once Julian was half-certain Sisko was out of earshot, he remarked, heavily, “ _Well_ , I suppose the ‘marriage’ part of our relationship is over. Back to business as usual, like you said.”

Garak was quiet.

Julian gulped. “You know,” he started, irritated, but then sad, “I must’ve been crazy to think this would stick. To think _you’d_ be able to—” He faltered and hung his head. 

“Never mind. I should’ve known you were lying all along. You just wanted to get me into bed, that was all. You said it yourself – that’s all you’ve wanted since the moment you first saw me here, boarding the station. You were cold. Lonely. Then the other night, I left before you got what you wanted, and you realised I wasn’t worth the _effort_.”

Julian folded then unfolded his arms, ignoring Garak’s argumentative huffing. He shot him a glare then turned away.

But Garak turned and called after Julian – “It doesn’t have to be over.”

Garak now noticed Sisko, who had leaned against a stack of crates to listen. Yet Garak didn’t hesitate before insisting, warmth and urgency in his voice, “My dear, I don’t _want_ it to be over.”

“Then why did you tell me you did?” Julian rounded on Garak, arms open. “Give me _one_ good reason.”

“Because—” Garak hesitated.

“‘Because’ isn’t good enough,” Julian said, stepping closer.

“Because,” Garak said again. He and Julian were inches away, eyes locked. “Because if we let this charade continue there’s only two ways this story unfolds. Either we carry on pretending this is a game, pretending not to feel the way we do... or...”

“Or you have to tell me the truth to my face.”

“Or that, yes.”

“So which will it be?”

Garak sighed, his gaze softening. It was difficult for him, but he worked up the courage to speak. “This marriage... was as real for me as it was for you.” His voice cracked a tiny bit before deepening with a surge of desperation, “And I don’t want it to end. Not now. And not ever.”

Julian cocked his head by a half-inch. “Elim?” he teased, feeling a smile twitch upon his lips. “Are you proposing to me?”

With hard resolve in his eyes, Garak nodded. “Yes, doctor, I am.”

Julian laughed, threading his fingers through his hair as he turned away then back, sparkling inside. “Alright,” he answered.

Garak shone from the inside out, a curl of ecstasy twisting down his tail.

Julian startled as he felt a hand slap his back. Sisko had crept up behind them, and now he gave them both another pat. “Tell me when and where,” he said with a grin.

  


★

  


“I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve asked you all here,” Julian said solemnly. He kept his eyes steady as he looked from the round table in the middle of Quark’s bar up to Quark himself, then Odo and Kira, who stood close by. His eyes skipped down to Miles, who perched at the table beside Jake and Nog and Leeta and Rom. Ezri hung out behind the smiling Garak, looking worried, while Worf lurked nearby, pretending not to listen, but giving himself away by staring intently at Garak out of the corner of his eye. “And,” Julian went on, “I suppose we’d better tell you.”

Garak’s tail wrapped around Julian’s ankle under the table, where no-one would see. Its tip curled a little in his excitement. Julian allowed himself to smile, and the tug of an oncoming grin ate up his face until it overtook, and he turned his gleaming eyes to Garak.

“Would you like to say, or shall I?” he asked his fiancé.

Garak had this way of looking wildly gleeful when he was even the least bit happy, and right now, he _shone_ from his eyes to his neck scales and to the sleek seam of his stretched-out lips. “Oh, my dear doctor, I wouldn’t dream of prying the honour away from you.”

Julian cocked his head. “Well, in that case,” he chirped. He took a breath and announced to his friends, “Garak and I are—”

“We’re getting married!” Garak finished in a burst of excitement that electrified Julian. Garak had never looked happier in all the time they’d been acquainted.

Julian chuckled, sliding his hand into Garak’s atop the table as Garak offered him an open palm. “And,” Julian went on, glancing between the confused people around them, “you’re all invited to the wedding. We were thinking in a week or two, maybe in a holosuite so Vic can come. Just a small, informal ceremony. Captain Sisko’s doing the honours.”

Still beaming, Julian took another look at his audience. His confidence faltered, as he saw no smiles, just squinty eyes and tilted heads. “Well?” he demanded. “Don’t you have anything to say? Surely _someone’s_ going to congratulate us.”

Even Garak looked a little worried now, his smile less sure of itself.

Ezri was the first to step up, taking a breath to ask, tentatively, “It’s not that we’re not happy for you, Julian – really, we all are – but...?”

Kira wriggled her pointer finger towards them and said, “But aren’t you – you know – _already_ married?”

“Are you renewing your vows?” Nog asked. “I heard that’s a thing,” he added to Jake. Jake nodded and folded his arms as he craned towards the table.

“Uh. N-nno,” Julian uttered. “No, we. We— See—”

He looked helplessly at Garak.

Garak rolled his eyes. “Suffice to say, my dear, I think they downed our little act as though it came with a free nectar chaser.”

“They were faking it to scare off Julian’s mother,” Miles explained to the group, and Odo chuckled gruffly, being the first to put two and two together. “Except pretending to be in love made them realise they... really were.” Miles rolled his eyes, but then reached for his synthale and offered it in a toast to the couple. “Congrats,” he smiled.

Now Kira placed a palm over her forehead, eyes shut, shaking her head and starting to smile. Jake and Nog stared at each other, then grinned, and Jake lurched over the table to grasp Julian firmly on the arm. Then came Leeta and Rom’s enthusiastic babbling, and Ezri’s breathy utterings: “I just can’t believe you faked it. You _faked_ it? Then again, I suppose it wasn’t really fake, if _this_ is what comes of it—”

Worf eased out a slow, heavy breath, giving Garak a firm, resentfully approving nod. Garak caught his eye and returned the gesture with respect and another easy smile.

Julian felt Garak’s tail curling higher up his leg, and it tickled enough that Julian spasmed and then laughed, squirming out of the eager coil. “Save the fondling for later,” he whispered near Garak’s ear.

Garak gave Julian a sly look. “My, my, _my_ , doctor.”

Julian grinned.

He startled as Quark’s arms wrapped around his neck and chest from behind. Julian patted Quark’s arm and looked back over his shoulder as Quark finally released him, eyes misty.

“Just promise me,” Quark rasped, hand on his chest, empty tray in the other hand. “Promise me one thing...”

“Anything, Quark,” Julian said, checking with Garak for his support, then looking back to Quark to wait for his request.

“Swear to me you’ll let me cater the wedding,” Quark finished.

Julian’s expression flattened in underwhelm. But then, he smiled. “Obviously, Quark. Who else?”

“Deal!” Quark grinned. “Rates are tripled for wedding catering. Hey, I don’t make the rules,” he said, one hand and his tray up by his shoulders. “No take-backs. And no refunds!”

Julian chortled, rolling his eyes as he faced the now-boisterous group, perching on an elbow to lean into the warmth of his friends. Garak was already discussing his artistic vision for the wedding, hands held up and out as he pictured banners and floral displays and elegant outfits of orange and gold.

Julian listened, smiling widely, resting his lovesick head on his hand as he watched everything fall comfortably into place.

  


★

  


Garak put on his lip moisturiser with a fingertip, smudging it back and forth across his lower lip and then pressing his lips together. Turning towards the bed, he flared out the covers to neaten them, sending a waft of air towards Julian, who emerged from the bathroom after his sonic shower, one hand tightening the waist ties of his white robe for modesty.

“Tea,” Garak said, nodding towards Julian’s side of the bed.

“Hmm, thank you,” Julian crooned, taking up the tea and purring at the hot steam that obscured his face as he breathed it in. His eyelashes seemed to stick together and darken, making him look twice as pretty as he finally drank down a gulp, then lowered the mug to his middle.

He gazed at Garak with uncommon intensity; the darkness of his stare seemed tempered by a playful head-tilt and a tiny smile. “Do you, um,” he started, licking his already-wet lips before finishing, “maybe want...?”

Garak paused in his arranging of triangular pillows, eyes on his fiancé. “Perhaps I do or perhaps I don’t, doctor, but I suspect my answer very much depends on how your sentence ends.”

“I _hope_ ,” Julian said, putting down his mug. He paced up to Garak beside the bed, eyes on his glossy lips, “it ends with something very pleasant indeed.”

In a manner so obnoxiously tantalising, he let the waist ties of his robe slip undone, fabric whispering, fingers twisting; he opened his robe and offered Garak a good look. Garak couldn’t help but peek down, lips parting, hot breath gushing between the small gap between their bodies.

“Mm,” Garak mumbled, swallowing back the urge to stammer. “May I?” he asked, hopeful fingers reaching for Julian’s exposed waist.

Julian smiled, biting his lip. He nodded.

Garak slipped a hand under Julian’s robe, snuck around his hot little waist and found a resting place in the small of his back, where Garak’s other hand met up and tugged him closer.

Garak applied a kiss to Julian’s cheek, a slow drone of delight rising from his chest as he did. “My dear,” he breathed. “ _How_ I adore you. Your grace could stun me to tears.” Another kiss to Julian’s jaw, then neck, then half-bared shoulder. With a nuzzle of Garak’s nose, the white robe dropped from that shoulder, and Garak sucked a kiss there; tongue-tip and dragging lips mapped out the contours of Julian’s lithe form.

Julian shuddered in his arms. “Garak...” He pulled back enough to make eye contact. “Take me to bed?”

“Much easier done than said, my dear,” Garak said, craning down a bit to fling back the covers. He stood up and angled Julian towards the bed, and with a gentle push of shoulders and pull of hips, he lowered Julian down to his back where he relaxed, obviously excited; two reaching hands tugged Garak down to meet him where he lay.

They kissed deeply between smiles, between nervous yet gratified huffs of laughter. Lips dragged and stuck and unstuck; hands wandered and clung tight.

Over the course of a minute, between kisses, Garak and Julian arranged themselves comfortably over the sheets, holding each other.

Their eyes met for longer and longer each time they glanced at each other; smiles lingered on lips and twinkled in their eyes – even before anything truly started.

However, once they began to touch and rock, once Julian had wrapped his legs around Garak’s stocky waist and flung away that purloined blue robe, smiles and shiny eyes became delighted gasps and involuntary cries of mirth. Pupils darkened, gleaming with stars.

“Auaah,” Julian moaned, smacking kiss after kiss to Garak’s neck. “Oh, this— Garak, this is perfect. Thi-hih-hiss... Oh, _yes_ —”

Garak’s hands found Julian’s: ten slim fingers were parted by ten thick knuckles. Palms squeezed. Julian’s knuckles pressed down to the bed. Their eye contact became desperate, unbreakable.

“Elim,” Julian whispered, lips halfway slack, black hair rushing against the mattress as they moved. “Oh. Oh, I love you. I love you. Don’t _stop_. This is s-so – _so_ perfect.”

Garak rumbled a laugh, nodding. On the edge of teary-eyed, he smooched Julian’s exposed neck, hot breath and a smile teasing there. “My reasons,” he murmured, following words with a kiss, “for loving you, they weigh a hundred-fold within me, dear Julian. But I – oh, _auh_ , hah, hahh...” A hard gulp, a huff of pleasure against Julian’s lips. “I wish to ask... what reasons have you?”

Julian laughed. “Really?” he said in false annoyance. “As if you don’t know.”

“Oh, I know.” Garak grinned down at his lover. “I merely wish to hear it from your lips.”

“Well, in that case,” Julian breathed, slipping one hand free and reaching to stroke back Garak’s usually-slick hair, tucking it behind an ear. “My r— Auh? Ah. My.” Julian cried out and arched in the bed, flushing hot.

Garak allowed no pause between his pushes, working against Julian’s hips with all the weight and stamina he had, not willing to underperform this first time.

“M-m-m-y rreasonsss,” Julian sobbed, eyes half-closed, lips swollen and wide open as he groaned loud, “that I lovvvvv...” 

He couldn’t speak, and, as expected, Garak adored turning him into a blushing, wailing, too-hot mess. The robe Julian still wore loosely at his back kept him cool enough to be safe, but he was _burning_ in Garak’s arms. Wet, slippery, practically steaming.

“One reason,” Garak groaned, lips on Julian’s ear. “Just one.”

Julian laughed, almost weeping in blinding ecstasy. “Because!” he cried, legs clutching tighter around Garak. The middle of his back left the bed, voice howling out, “ _Because_! Because. Because.”

Garak took Julian’s hand to hold again, kissing it as he slowed, letting Julian recover.

“Because.” Julian shivered, _shaking_ after his overwhelming climax; his whisper barely grazed the heat of his mouth before it met Garak’s ears: “Because.”

Garak accepted that to mean what it always meant for them: it was something too inexplicable, too big, too overwhelming to justify with meager words. It could be said at some other time, shown some other way, but a secret held back now did nothing to dampen the effect of its unquestionable existence.

Feeling the tight throb of devotion in his chest, Garak put kisses upon Julian’s sweaty forehead, then his eyelashes, then his gaping, shaking lips. Julian twisted to kiss Garak fully; he grasped at the back of his head, smothering him in affections and feeding him a dozen loving noises.

A few minutes stole past in tenderness, during which Julian paid much attention to Garak’s top half and not much to his lower half. No matter; Garak was embroiled quite happily in whatever touches Julian cared to give him. With one deep, slow kiss and a sultry moan, Garak finished against Julian’s hip. He sighed with sudden comfort as he fell into Julian’s waiting embrace.

Julian snuggled him by force onto his back, and like that they cuddled, kissing all the while. Lost in a deep, humming smooch, Julian patted a hand around blindly, then brought up the blanket and draped them both together under its privacy and heat.

Only then did he break the kiss... just to look. Just to _gaze_.

Julian gazed at Garak in a way nobody ever had before. There was surprise in his expression still; he couldn’t believe he’d fallen in love with Garak, any more than Garak could believe Julian loved him. Yet, Julian had given Garak all of himself, and a promise for a future together, and... his hand, his warm and beautiful hand, slipped most intimately between Garak’s fingers.

Tonight there was no ring on Julian’s finger, and no ring on Garak’s.

Nor was there in the nights that followed.

Again, again, again, they held hands in the night and rolled over to sleep wrapped in each other’s heat; Garak’s tail curled around Julian’s leg, fingers latched together by one of their chests, between their hearts, or between their lips. No rings.

Until, one night, they held hands and each other – and two bands of metal shone, snug around familiar fingers. One silver on grey, one gold against brown.

Each ring, just like one hand in the other, was a perfect fit.

**{ the end }**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☆ [**Art post!**](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/614432838283067392/tail-over-heels-a-garashir-fake-marriage-fic-by) (pls reblog if you liked this??)  
> ☆ [**Text post**](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/614432832298860544/tail-over-heels) (fic opening lines! whee)
> 
> I hope this fic was a delight to read, dear space friends. I'd LOVE if you left me a comment telling me your thoughts! (P.S. [Right now due to the overload on AO3's systems, you should probably log in if you want your presence to be noted](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/614351156562608128/emergency-measures-affecting-works-ao3).)
> 
> Here's some other fics you'd enjoy if you liked this:  
> ★ [**Exactly What It Looks Like**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611311) (24k, Quark runs a competition to see who can get the most romantic photo of Julian and Garak together; Julian and Garak enter to win; not-so-fake relationship)  
> ★ [**The Cupid Computer**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21995068) (12k, post-canon DS9, Julian plays a computer game that matches him to his soulmate. Guess who he matches with?)  
> ★ [**Space Family Blanket Fort**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894280) (6k, the Ops crew build a blanket fort to stay warm while problems are fixed; Garak has a tail, is cold, and needs cuddles)  
> ★ [**His Sleeping Secrets**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21786475) (3k, accidental relationship reveal because Julian talks in his sleep)
> 
> Of course, [there's a bunch more](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi/works?fandom_id=8474), and there's gonna be _even_ more Garashir fics coming very soon :D [Subscribe if you want those in your inbox~](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your support and encouragement - all the comments and kudos and nice messages on tumblr are ALL very special to me. You're all so darn LOVELY. I aggressively wish nice things for you and your loved ones.
> 
> Elmie x


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